


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by MrsStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 27 dresses au, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Bottom Louis, Dan is a cuddly papa bear who deserves only good things in this world, Escort Harry, Fake Boyfriend AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fizzy is an evil genius, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry is a corporate escort, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Love Triangle, M/M, Rimming, SO, The Wedding Date AU, and Louis and Harry as an explosion of chemistry waiting to happen, he doesn't sleep with clients, love square really, minor roles played by Liam and Niall, some telenovela drama, somehow I forgot smut tags, starring Zayn as the ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 22:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17610236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsStylinson/pseuds/MrsStylinson
Summary: Loosely based on The Wedding Date. Inspired by 27 Dresses. Basically, Fake Boyfriend AU with a twist. Louis' sister is unknowingly getting married to the ex who broke his heart. When faced with the prospect of turning up alone, Louis panics and hires a corporate escort named Harry. General chaos and epic jealousy ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Long time no see. I have no excuses as to why I finished another short fic and haven't posted a new chapter on my long one. I do have a mental block that I'm trying to work through and I've been seeing a psychologist who is helping me to work on my mental health which I think is a big step towards getting my writing back on track. I will say it felt so good to finish a fic for the first time in AGES after having been diagnosed with depression halfway through last year. I also made sure I finished and edited the whole thing before I dared to post it because I've learnt my lesson and won't put you through that again.
> 
> Hopefully some of you are still with me. I read your comments almost every day and am reminded how lucky I am to have such amazing feedback so never think that I don't see them or appreciate them because I do, so much.  
> Lastly, few disclaimers: Jay is in this but it is after her passing so bear that in mind. It is mentioned throughout but I don't think it's particularly triggering because most of it is based on a character, not real life.  
> Zayn is sort of the horrible ex but this is not a reflection of him. It's just how the idea unfolded.  
> Liam and Niall barely feature but I love them both and I still think you'll enjoy this.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts. I love hearing from you <3

“London Corporate Escort Service, how can we help?”

“Yeah...uh...hi. My name is—” Louis gasps, eyes vaulting around the room in search of inspiration. All he finds a box of macaroni and cheese. “My name is Mac.”

“Okay…Mac.”

“No wait! That was a lie. It’s Louis.”

A warm laugh tickles his ear.

“Are you a bit nervous Louis? It’s okay if you are. My name’s Liam and I’m going to make this process as simple and painless as you need it to be.”

“Great. Thank you, Liam. So much. I just, uh, I’ve never done this before and it feels a lot like hiring a…” he tugs at his tie, “a prostitute.”

The other man snorts.

“I’d like to say that’s the first time we’ve been accused of that but I’m afraid it really isn’t. Please, let me assure you that sexual favours aren’t a part of the deal. At all. Although, if that is what you’re looking for, might I suggest—“

“That is not what I’m looking for!” Louis screeches.

“Alright, alright...” He laughs. “What can I do for you then, Mr...”

“Tomlinson.”

“Mr Tomlinson.”

“Well, I know your guys are usually booked by women—“

“We do offer male escorts for men, Mr Tomlinson.”

“—but I need a hot blooded, well endowed, swoon worthy date for my sister’s wedding and I was really hoping you could help. I‘d be willing to pay double, triple if it helps. See, I’m kinda desperate.”

He hears a set of acrylic nails clacking against a keyboard. While Liam doesn’t sound like the type to get his nails done, the thought of some hunky receptionist going to the nail salon every week makes him grin.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Tomlinson. I’ve just connected you with one of our most popular escorts. He’s young, fit and completely discreet. Of course, he is more accustomed to corporate events but I’ve put a note in the file. Now, let’s discuss payment....”

Two weeks later, Louis is pacing in front of his wardrobe in a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs and pink furry bed socks. It’s not a good look.

“I don’t see why it matters what you wear. It’s an escort, Lou, not a blind date.”

Louis turns to shoot daggers at the traitorous leprechaun perched atop his California king size bed. That bed was a mistake, purchased at the height of his infatuation with a certain tall, brooding ex. Now, it’s just a reminder of everything Louis left London without and all the meaningless crap he brought with him. His house is haunted by memories that would be better left for dead.

“It’s not about the escort,” he says through clenched teeth, “it’s about what’s waiting for me in London, you imbecile.”

Niall pouts at him, snuggling back against the thousands of throw pillows, as if that will protect him from Louis’ needless wrath.

“Alright, no need to get stroppy with me. I’m not the one whose ex— “

Louis launches himself across the bed, landing atop Niall’s stomach and eliciting a pained “oof”.

“Don’t say it,” he pushes two fingers against Niall’s lips, “don’t even think it.”

“Lou.” He exhales hot air onto Louis’ fingers. “At some point, you need to accept what happened so that you can finally let that bastard go.”

Louis wriggles backwards off Niall’s stomach and rests on his haunches instead,

“No, what I need to do is to find an outfit that says ‘fuckable and fit’ but also,” he stretches sideways across the end of the bed, “‘taken by gorgeous lover.’”

Niall cocks his head.

“That’s a lot for an outfit to say...”

Louis rolls his eyes and leaps off the bed, landing flat footed in front of his walk-in wardrobe.

“You’ve been no help. I suppose if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”

Niall might have followed Louis all the way from London to Cali but he can’t follow him back now. Louis has to face Zayn Malik all on his own.

***

When his escort’s car pulls up two hours later, Louis slides his aviators on and grabs his suitcase. He buttons the top button on his shirt and glances in his hallway mirror one last time to check the fit.

The top is a light blue shirt with a lacy floral pattern that spans both sides of his ribs. It’s just transparent enough to show off his newly minted Californian tan which has added a bronze glow to his naturally olive skin. To complete the look, he squeezed his arse into a pair of dark blue waist high skinnies which cinch him tighter than a corset. He’s serving buttoned up church boy with a side of sex.

The Louis of old would never dare wear something as feminine or ‘gay’ as this top, nor something so tight on the bottom. He would have worn black skinnies that were a size too big and a stock standard band t-shirt. He never would have gone near transparent clothing or jeans that give his arse the lift it deserves. He used to be so afraid of his own femininity and consequently, tried desperately to hide it, especially because it’s what his relationship needed at the time. It’s what Zayn demanded of him. Now, he’s free to celebrate the body he loves, the same body that deserves to be loved.

For some final touches, he adds some recently purchased eyeliner, a hint of mascara and some berry lip gloss. If he’s going to be obliterated all over again, he might as well look fabulous doing it.

He steps outside and the sun is blinding but the sky is perfectly peach. His escort’s shiny black stretch limo is waiting to devour him. He gulps, clenching his fingers around the handle of his pink Prada bag. He walks down the driveway, giving himself one last pep talk, then reaches for the door. It flies open before he can get there.

“Louis Tomlinson?” A deep, gravelly voice asks.

Louis jumps a little, stifling an embarrassing squeak. He ducks his head to see inside, trying not to gape openly at the gorgeous man waiting inside. Louis’ seen male models with faces less remarkable than this.

“Here, let me get your bag.” The man says, plucking his bag straight out from beneath his limp fingers.

Louis is silent with awe as he climbs in beside the most fit man he’s ever seen. It’s only a massively chiselled jaw and some wide set, burly shoulders, he tells himself. It’s just a six-foot fellow Brit with a deep voice and long fingers.

“Are you—” Louis swallows what little moisture remains in his mouth, trying to kick his confidence into gear, while the engine thrums beneath them. “I mean, you’re so young?”

And beautiful. So god damn beautiful. The man is pale like a natural Brit but rosy cheeked like someone’s who’s seen a few too many hours of sun. His eyes are six different shades of mutable green, flickering in the tinted light of the windows.

He leans in close, face drawing near to Louis’. For a moment, it seems awfully likely that they might kiss and for a moment—a distinct moment— Louis wants it. Badly. He inhales deeply and catches the scent of some expensive, spicy cologne, as well as something sweet and effeminate like a berry scented candle. Then the man’s face glides past his, a smirk gracing his mouth. He pulls the passenger door closed and settles back into his seat, the leather squeaking beneath him.

“I’m not a prostitute, Louis.” He squeezes Louis’ knee, showing off a devastating dimpled smile. “It’s okay that I’m young. You’re 26, right? There’s only three years between us.”

“I’m sorry.” Louis shakes his head, muddled. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“It’s Harry, Harry Styles.”

Louis looks him up and down.

“Is that your real name Harry, Harry Styles?”

Harry tilts his head back against the headrest, laughing into Louis’ eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a prostitute?”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says. “this is a first for me! I’ve never been...escorted before.”

“Oh, your first time?” He fiddles with one of the numerous necklaces that hang around his neck, the longest of which dangles down between two well-muscled pecs. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Louis laughs to disguise his discomfort, squirming in his seat at the thought. Harry watches his hips twisting in his seat and gives his knee another toe tingling squeeze. What a charming bastard.

“You’re good,” Louis points an accusing finger his way, “but save some of that charm for later.”

“Don’t worry.” Harry stretches his conjoined hands out, cracking his knuckles and winking obnoxiously. “You’re just the warm up. We should debrief, though. Tell me about this wedding.”

“My sister is getting married,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “to my ex-boyfriend.”

“What?” Harry’s expression goes wide and flat. He walks his piano fingers up Louis’ knee to grip his thigh. Apparently, personal space is of no concern. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Louis pops the ‘p’. “This is no corporate function, Harry, Harry Styles. This is a bloodbath. And you’re in it with me.”

Harry stares at him for a full minute, just breathing heavily.

“No, seriously.” He leans forward and places both palms on Louis’ thighs. It should be more uncomfortable than it is, given the short time they’ve been acquainted. “What?!”

Louis sighs and grabs him by the shoulders.

“Okay, I’m only going to say all of this once because I loathe to talk about it. So, listen closely.” Harry nods. “When I was eighteen, I went to a party at the record label I did receptionist work at. I got absolutely sloshed and accidentally slept with my boss’ son.”

“How do you accidentally sleep with someone?” Harry puzzles. He’s acting very superior for someone who’s wearing a black and white leopard print shirt, open right down to the navel. “Did you fall and get caught on his dick?”

Louis scowls.

“Why do you assume I was the bottom?”

Harry smirks and flicks the top button on his collar.

“Were you not?”

“That’s beside the point,” he sniffs, ignoring Harry’s chuckles. “Sexual relations were had, a realisation followed the very next morning, and I quit my job before the head of the company could find out that I sucked his son off beneath his desk.”

“I have to question the mentality of the son here...”

“Anyway,” Louis silences him with a look, “I was looking around for jobs at record labels. Although, when I say jobs, I actually mean whatever I could get. I wanted to work in music, around music...I wanted music inside me.” Harry smirks at that, just like Louis thought he would. “And I eventually found a job working as a personal assistant for the head of another record company, one that represented the likes of Ariana Grande and Jessie J. That’s when I met Shahdid, an up and coming producer. Although he called himself naughty boy, at the time.”

“Naughty boy? What kind of a name is naughty boy?”

Louis ignores Harry’s running commentary, which he’s quickly learning is an absolute necessity.

“He would hit on me constantly, no matter how many times I turned him down. At the time, I thought it was just persistence. So finally, I gave in to his constant attempts to get me to sleep with him and he bolted before I could return home with breakfast.”

“Dickweed.”

“Dickweed?” He raises an eyebrow.

Harry digs into his hip pocket and pulls out a square of gum. He unwraps it slowly and places it on his long, pink tongue.

“Dickweed.” He says and snaps his gum.

“So, after Shahdid broke my heart, I ran into his younger brother, Zayn, who happened to be head of A&R at the time. Zayn cornered me in the men’s room, when I was barely zipped, and begged me to forgive his brother’s stupidity. I said it was fine and that these things happen but he seemed to think I was owed some kind of apology.” Louis grins at the memory, fond of it even now. “He marched me over to the coffee room in the middle of lunch and forced Shahdid to apologise to me. In front of everyone. Including two of the boys he’d been fucking since me.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry guffaws, slapping his knee. “And you fell in love with the brother, huh?”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “We started dating but kept it on the down low, considering my intentions to move up in the company and his links to the heads of it. He cut me a few breaks, here and there, but in the end, it was my song writing skills that got me a foot in the door. And after a few more years of that, I made it into marketing, where I’d always dreamed I’d be. I still wrote songs, I still do,” he says with a rueful grin, “But it’s the trappings of an artist that really fascinate me. Image is so important in this day and age and I can shape an image unlike anyone else in the business. The thing is, I actually care about the images I’m shaping?” He smiles. “I can protect an artist and make them a marketable product in the same set of promo. My selling point is that I can do it without sacrificing their integrity.”

Harry’s fingers have splayed out across his thighs, his eyes wider and more luminous than before. As he listens to Louis speak, a rhythmic hum emanates from the long, lean lines of his throat.

“Zayn and I had that in common,” Louis says. “We had the same values, the same goals, the same sense of humour. We kept our relationship on the down low and built a company on the side. It was all discreet...every phone call, every sleepover, every boardroom blow job.” Harry sniggers. “My family knew nothing of my personal life or my company and that was always at his request. It wasn’t until we had L & Z fully up and running that I realised the truth. The secrets weren’t about the business; they were personal. Once there was no more reason to hide behind closed doors, it was clear. I was the only one ready to come out as a couple.

“He wasn’t out?”

“He wasn’t and he never planned on it.  He told me that. Was shocked that I ever expected him to be out.” Louis tilts his head back, blinking back tears. It’s been six months since he let himself think about this properly. “I told him I could wait, that I understood how hard it was, that I was sure one day he’d be ready. But he lost it. He told me he wasn’t even sure he was gay, that maybe I’d just seduced him into it.” Louis scoffs. “’You’re great in bed’, he told me, ‘that doesn’t mean I want a family with you.’”

Harry stares at him for a long moment, visibly grinding his teeth, then turns and knocks on the driver’s window. It slides down immediately.

“Yes, sir?”

“We need to make an unscheduled stop.” He says. “Pull over at the next Walgreen’s you see, please.”

“Harry?” Louis tugs on his expensive shirt, zeroing in on the light dusting of stubble that litters the sides of his face.

“Just give me a minute, Louis.”

The driver pulls up at a local Walgreen’s and as soon as the engine comes to a shuddering stop, Harry is throwing the door open and tugging Louis out by the wrist.

“C’mon,” he urges, “this monstrosity of a wedding can wait.”

Louis laughs, a little bit hysterical, but trots after Harry, spurred on by the sheer animosity pulsing through him. It’s got nothing to do with the way his own delicate fingers are swallowed up by Harry’s course hand or the way the light hits Harry’s chiselled features, painting him like a statue.

Once inside, it appears that Harry knows exactly where he’s going, marching off towards the last aisle with his fingers still curled around Louis’ wrist.

“C’mon Louis, there’s no time to waste.”

Louis huffs at that but allows himself to be dragged past many a curious gaze. He can’t help but notice that there is a few admiring ones mixed in. It’s not enough to make him blush, until he notices two halves of the same couple checking out his disappearing waist and the wide expanse of torso on display. He shrinks a little at their gaze, turning his warm face into his bicep.

Harry suddenly gives a sharp tug on his hand which sends him stumbling into the side of his chest. He squeaks and plants a hand on Harry’s side, attempting to stop himself from wrapping around him completely.

“They all want a taste of you,” Harry whispers in his ear, “Can’t say I blame them. Did I mention you make high fashion look delectable?”

“I wanted to look like someone that breaks hearts,” Louis admits on a breathy exhale, tilting his chin up just enough to catch Harry’s blindingly intense gaze, “not like someone who’s had theirs broken.”

“Mission accomplished.” Harry says, then starts tugging him along again, his hand reaching out to snag a carton of eggs along the way. “You’re going to break the heart of every man, or woman, who doesn’t get to tear that outfit off you with their teeth.”

Louis presses his teeth into a barely concealed grin. Escorts say what you want to hear, he tells himself, but Harry’s voice sounded sincere.

Harry hands over a tenner to the girl at the register, asking her if her day’s been rough. Louis shoots her a little smile when she falters, dropping the change all over the ground. Poor girl, Louis thinks, she can’t have been the first teenage girl to be dazzled by the likes of Harry.

They step back into the parking lot and Harry pulls him around the other side of the building. Louis notices that there are just a couple of lone cars and no open shopfronts. The sky is a mess of pink and blue above their heads and swarms of squawking birds are soaring overhead, their wings extended like open parachutes.

“It’s time to stop this,” Harry flicks his top button.

“Stop what?” He laughs. “Buttoning my shirts?”

“Well yeah?” He agrees, eyes sliding down Louis’ collar bones to settled on his pebbled nipples. They dart down to his exposed belly, pressed into the tight fit of his jeans. It’s a greasy once over that sticks to Louis’ body like sweat. “But no, actually, I like the whole ‘private schoolboy with a death wish’ thing.” He winks. “What I meant was...you need to stop hanging on so tightly to all of it. You need to let go of all the assholes, all the one-night stands, all the  _pain_. I could tell from the moment you stepped into that car, all shaky and unsure. You don’t know how to let go, you don’t know how not to be in control.”

“That’s not true.” He crosses his arms. “Don’t try and pigeon hole me. You don’t know me at all. I’ve sky dived. I started my own label, twice, and I moved to California on my own, after losing everything I built plus the person I built it with. That was courageous as fuck. Don’t dismiss me as some kind of coward.”

“I’d never,” Harry tells him, “but I wasn’t talking about how big your balls are. I was talking about your rules. You do brave things, I’m sure. You must do spontaneous things but you never really do what you want to do in the moment, do you? Like before, in the limo. When I leaned over to shut your door and I was this close, inhaling whatever the fuck you put all over your body that makes you smell so good...” Harry takes three long steps towards him and suddenly they’re pressed chest to chest, his chin grazing Harry’s pecs. He has to crane his neck to keep eye contact and his heart is going a mile a minute trying to keep up. “What did you want? In that moment, when I was this close to you, what did you want, Louis?”

Louis stumbles back, shaking his head.

“N…nothing. What do you mean?”

Harry’s nostrils flare when he laughs.

“Exactly.” He pulls the carton of eggs out from behind his back. “You just proved my point. But if you can’t admit it to someone else, maybe you can admit it to yourself. Admit that you’re not just heartbroken. Admit that you’re not just hurt. Admit that you’re not just angry. Admit that that son of a bitch took everything from you. Then promise yourself that you won’t let him take whatever’s left.”

“I... I don’t understand.” Louis takes the carton from Harry and opens it up. He balances the weight of an egg in his hand and looks up at Harry for guidance.

The other man tilts his head at the brick wall opposite them. The sun catches in the green of his eyes and reflects off the delicate glow of his skin. He’s like a perfect alien creature and Louis finds himself helpless not to stare.

“What do you want?” He repeats. “In this moment. You don’t have to tell me. Just...do it.”

Louis glances around, looking for possible witnesses. His shoulders are all hunched up around his ears and he can feel a knot forming at the base of his neck.

“Don’t think,” Harry circles around behind him and plants too large hands on his waist, squeezing gently. Practice, Louis tells himself, it’s just practice for the wedding. “Just do.”

Louis hurls the egg at the wall. It explodes in a million different directions. Bright yellow yolk splatters across the bricks, then drools down into the cracks in the pavement like thick rivulets of blood. It looks exactly how Louis felt six months ago; wholly shattered. It’s exactly how he wishes he could make Zayn feel.

He throws another, and another, and another, until tears of fury and relief collect in his eyes and Harry tears the half empty carton away from him. He drops it on the ground next to them and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, rocking them from side to side and nuzzling the top of his head.

“How did it feel?”

“Amazing.”

They walk back to the limo, holding hands. It feels as natural as breathing.

“You read people the way some people crack codes, don’t you?”

They’re back in the limo, the monstrosity that is L.A flashing past all around them in one bright mural of colour.  There’s pockets of peach sky and miles of towering palm trees, flying past at breakneck speed.

“A good escort experience is whatever the customer needs it to be.” Harry agrees, watching him carefully. “Sometimes people need to hold onto someone.” He takes Louis’ hand in his. “But sometimes they really need to let go.”

“Right.” Louis sits there quietly for a moment, drumming his fingers against Harry’s palm. “So…you wanna hear the rest?”

“Of course.”

“He kicked me out of the company. Accused me of harassment. Sexual, of course.” Louis says, attempting polite disinterest. “I think he planned it. He must have known I would ask him to come out because he had all those people willing to say I’d gone after him, instead of the other way around. Even though I might have been grateful to him for dealing with Shahdid, he was the one who asked me up for coffee after our first date. He was the one who dragged me into boardrooms and begged me to get him off.”

“Did he go he police?”

“No, he just threatened me until I cooperated,” Louis shakes his head, eyes smarting. “I sold all my shares in the company and I came here to start afresh. I built my own company from the ground up and then a couple of months back I got this call from my sister, Lottie. She said she had met someone and I was ecstatic. Then she sent me a picture. At first, I thought he’d done it on purpose, just to spite me, as if he hadn’t taken enough away from me. Then I remembered I told him my sister’s name was Charlotte, not Lottie. Lottie is what she goes by.”

“He doesn’t know that you’re her brother?” Harry rubs at his own forehead, giving Louis a wide-eyed look.

“No, he does.” He flutters his eyelashes down, toeing at the limo floor. “But I never said anything to Lottie. I never thought it was serious. I thought they’d break up because I was pretty sure he was gay. I mean, he never showed any interest in women, whatsoever. But then she skyped me to tell me the amazing news and there he was, standing right beside her, his arms wrapped around her.”

“Did he freak?”

“No, that was the thing,” Louis has to laugh. “He was so smooth. He said how nice it was to finally meet me and that he was so lucky to have met and fallen in love with someone like Lottie, who always puts her family first. It was like he was stealing lines right out of the bachelor.” He rolls his eyes. “But I could see how starry eyed she was, how desperately in love. Even if I said something, she’d never believe me. She’d think I was saying it because it happened so fast or because I never approve of her boyfriends. I mean, what are the chances that my ex-boyfriend ends up proposing to my little sister? It’s ridiculous.”

“So she has no idea? Louis, jesus.”

“I know. It’s terrible. But what if I’m wrong? Maybe he’s not exclusively gay. Or maybe I was just a tight hole and a good lay.”

“No.” Harry turns and grips him by the wrists, shaking him slightly. “Don’t fucking say that. You are never just a tight hole for someone to fuck, you hear me? He’s not straight. Maybe he’s bi...” he concedes, “but even if he is, he ruined you, Louis. He threatened you and chased you all the way across the pond. You live in fucking Cali, for Christ sake.”

Louis giggles at that and curls his fingers around Harry’s wrists in return.

“What’s wrong with Cali?”

The other man smiles deeply, his gaze shifting from the scrunch of Louis’s nose to the twitching of his mouth.

“They don’t drink tea here.”

He grabs Harry by the cheeks and presses his thumbs right into those perfect dimples. It would be so easy to kiss a boy like this, for no other reason than that it just feels right. His entire body trembles with how much he wants it; how much he aches to pour all his desire into someone who could handle it.

“I think I’m falling for my escort,” he deadpans and they both snigger at the thought. Can’t have what you want, Louis tells himself, that’s how you ended up here.

“So neither of you has spoken to each other since the Skype call?”

The car has just pulled up outside the airport and Harry starts lugging Louis’ suitcase out for him, as if that were part of his job.

“No,” Louis agrees, trying to wrestle it off an obstinate Harry. “I couldn’t face him. He humiliated me six months ago and now he’s done it again. Besides, I’m hoping that if I just leave it alone, he won’t hurt her. Maybe they’ll actually live happily ever after. That happens, right?”

Harry looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Being a martyr doesn’t make you a hero, Louis. It makes you the butt of someone else’s joke.”

His tone is biting. The thing is, Louis knows his life is one big sham. He’s gone from dating a closet case who wouldn’t commit to him to watching that closet case commit to his sister. It’s a disaster. That doesn’t mean he needs it pointed out.

He storms off in a huff, abandoning Harry at the boarding gate and finding his way to his seat alone. He couldn’t get two tickets together so he knows he’ll at least get to spend the duration of this flight by himself, contemplating how best to fire Harry. Suddenly, the lady next to him starts shifting up and out of her seat, stammering apologies at a doe-eyed Harry.

Louis rips out his earphones, glowering at Harry, who plonks himself down in the seat beside him, squeezing Louis’ thigh to steady himself 

“What did you say to that poor woman?”

“I told her you don’t have long to live. And as your newly wedded husband, I think it’s important for us to share this journey together, don’t you?”

“Terminal illness isn’t a fucking joke,” Louis’ eyes shoots daggers, “I lost my mum to leukaemia a year ago and it was excruciating. We got a diagnosis out of nowhere and a few months later, we’re crowded around a bed, saying goodbye. She was ripped away from seven kids and a husband of just a few years.”

The smug grin drops right off Harry’s features and it is as satisfying as it is horrible.

“I’m sorry. For that.” His thumb finds the inside of Louis’ elbow. “And for before. I might be a good escort but that doesn’t mean I’m a good person. I fuck up. A lot. Probably more than you—“

“Impossible.”

“—and if you just remind me of that, I’ll shut up straight away. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be in this situation and without your mum, too.”

“My mum was my best friend,” Louis admits, rolling his headphones up and tucking them away. “And she hated Zayn. She was the only one who knew about him, actually. She came to London a couple of times and he agreed to have dinner with her but she clocked him way before I did. She tried to tell me that it wasn’t going to work out but I wouldn’t listen. And it drove a wedge between us that lasted right up until she got sick. She passed away six months before Zayn did exactly what she expected. He broke my heart and she wasn’t even there to say, ‘I told you so’. I had to pick the pieces up myself.”

He wishes he could talk to her now. He’d ask her why talking about her death with everyone else has felt too much like opening a vein but this feels just like tracing over a long-healed scar.

“Is that why you won’t tell Lottie?” Harry asks. “Because you’re afraid you’ll lose her?”

“I’m not just afraid.” He says. “I’m terrified. I can’t do it again. I can’t lose anyone else.”

Harry doesn’t say anything after that. He watches Louis carefully, like a nurse with a stubborn patient, checking for signs of ill health. As the hours tick by, Louis’ eyelids start to droop and before he knows it, he’s passed out, the wounds of the last five years flashing behind his eyes.

When he awakens, the light outside is a dull blue, tinged with purple, and the inside of the cabin is dim. He lifts his head slightly and knocks it directly into something solid. He slides out from under Harry’s jaw and lifts the limp arm curled around his shoulders. Harry smells like fresh laundry and spearmint, a scent Louis would happily purchase in candle form. As the lights of London appear below them, little spots of white in the vast blue of dawn, Louis places a hand on Harry’s face and strokes his thumb across the soft apple of his cheek.

“Harry.” He murmurs. “We’re almost here.”

The other man blinks back at him, bleary eyed and beautiful, his eyes flitting down to the hand cupping his cheek then back up to Louis’ eyes, still hazy with sleep.

“Um...I..w…what?”

It’s the first time Louis’ heard him stutter or sound unsure and it takes just a second for him to understand why. Inappropriate placement of hand on cheek. Whoops.

“S...s...sorry,” Louis stutters back, rolling his eyes inwardly at what they must sound like to the flight crew; two idiots abroad. “It’s just, um, we’re almost here.”

“Oh.” Harry’s features light up in the most genuine way and he leans across Louis, steadying his hands on Louis’ thighs, again, in order to press his face against the aeroplane window. His dizzying scent wafts past Louis’ face but he doesn’t seem to notice the effect he’s having. “The best city in the world, god I missed you.”

“You were gone twenty-four hours,” Louis huffs, grinning in spite of himself. “It didn’t even have time to miss you back.”

Harry chuckles, turning to flash Louis the charming grin he remembers.

“But it’s had plenty of time to miss you.”

“That’s true.” Louis agrees. “Can’t wait to be served a proper cup of tea. Can’t wait to get soaked by the rain.”

Harry looks at him, squinting as if he’s got in built x-ray vision.

“I bet you look good wet.”

Louis squawks through his laughter and punches him straight in the arm. Harry’s grinning as he rubs at his bicep, shying away from Louis’ fist.

“You couldn’t handle me wet.” He raises his eyebrows, leaning forward to press his nipples against Harry’s chest. “Could you?”

“Fuck no,” Harry groans, pushing him back into his seat.

Louis snickers, enjoying the crimson rays of heat that bloom bright across Harry’s cheeks. This is going to be one hell of a week, either way.


	2. Chapter 2

 

They’re halfway to Louis’ stepdad’s house before he really starts to freak out.

“We need to pull over somewhere. I need new clothes.” He grips Harry’s arm. “I smell like aeroplane!”

“No, you don’t,” Harry silences him. “And we’re not stopping. I know this must be hard for you—“

“Hard is an understatement.”

“But he’s going to rue the day he lost you.”

“I don’t—I don’t want him to want me,” Louis says, “I just want him to realise I’m worth more, that I deserved better.”

Harry places one hand on his shoulder and the other on his thigh, massaging gently.

“And he will.” He says. “I promise.”

When the car pulls up to the house, it’s already early afternoon. Outside, it’s predictably windy and wet with sheets of wintry rain shooting sideways across the car window. But the rain is the least of Louis’ concerns.

On both sides of the driveway is the formerly lush garden his mother loved and tended to for years. Now, the tulips are limp and hugging the ground. The roses are brown around the edges, their petals starting to peel away like violent protesters fleeing the scene of their crimes. Six months ago, Louis had been down from London every weekend to prevent exactly this. He was determined to keep her legacy alive.

The silver lining is the sign she made which is still standing tall and proud at the centre. The leafy green plants that surround it seem to have been pruned. Heaven on earth, the sign reads, with a picture of an angel kissing the cheek of a cherub. Jay painted the cherub to look like one of Louis’ baby pictures, not long after he was born. It was their little secret. The knowledge that he was her first love always made him smile. Now, it just makes his heart ache.

“Bring back fond memories?” Harry asks, pulling a long black umbrella from his suitcase.

“Fond…and painful.” Louis gazes at the rickety wooden porch where Dan and Jay used to sit in the afternoons, lounging around on a worn orange sofa. They always had books perched on their laps but their hands were always linked between them, their bodies curled into one another. Sometimes Louis would bring them tea and they’d all sit there together, maintaining perfect silence, but appreciating each other’s company all the same. The sofa is gone now, probably donated, and the porch looks like it could use a new lick of paint. “My mum loved this garden...and this porch. Doesn’t look like Dan has been able to bear touching either.”

It’s been a year since she passed and sometimes that feels like forever. Most of the time, it feels like it was just yesterday and Louis wonders if it will ever get any easier. Will he ever stop listening to her voicemail every night before bed or rereading the letters she wrote when she was pregnant with him?

_ To my baby boy…that’s strange to say, isn’t it? But you feel like mine already, before I’ve even had a chance to hold you. I’m so scared of giving birth but I have no doubt you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. See you soon, darling. I can’t wait to be your mum _ .”

“Dan? Is that your stepfather?” Harry says, startling Louis from his thoughts.

“Oh, jesus. We really should have talked more on the way here.” He palms his forehead. “I don’t even know anything about you!”

“Crash course?” Louis nods. “Harry Edward Styles, born in Cheshireto my lovely parents, Anne and Des.”

“Anne and Des,” Louis repeats back to him.

“I’m a big animal lover, obsessed with photography and I love indie music.” Louis screws up his face at that and Harry pushes him in the side. “Oh, and I did my degree in law.”

Louis stares at him in shock. Who is this human?

“What do you mean ‘oh and I did my degree in law’? I mean, seriously, wow,” he whistles, pretending to fan himself. “I didn’t know I was dating a genius.”

Harry chuckles and pushes him.  _Again_.

“I might have been good at it but I absolutely hated it. I became a junior partner at a law firm in London and it was actual torture. When my friend offered me a gig as an escort, I didn’t even have to think twice. Scandalous, hey?” He laughs at Louis’ raised eyebrows. “But I found a job where I could give people what they really needed instead of just helping a lot of rich bastards screw over the poor. Don’t get me wrong, I still have to deal with rich bastards,” he says, “but now I get to offer a specific service to a specific kind of client. And I don’t work with assholes.”

“I’m flattered.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

“Long story short, we’ll just tell your family I’m a lawyer. The rest we can get to later. It’s not like they know me anyhow. Now, give me a breakdown of your family.”

“Okay, but you asked for it...”

Ten minutes later, Harry is holding their sole umbrella above their heads as they leg it up the driveway and onto the porch. The ends of his hair are curling into his cheeks by the time they reach the front door but he still looks like more of a supermodel than anyone Louis knows.

“Shit, you’re gorgeous.”

Harry chuckles delightedly, folding up the umbrella and tossing it to the side of the porch.

“Am I your type then?” He asks, gaze all too knowing as he pushes into Louis’ space. “Did you look at my pictures?”

Louis had been too scared to look him up but the way Harry is smirking at him makes him feel like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Truthfully, if he had to choose between Harry and any of the other escorts, he still would have chosen Harry, no contest.

“No,” Louis huffs, pushing him back. “Now stop it or else you won’t be able to fit your incredibly large head through our incredibly small door.”

Harry laughs and raps his knuckles on it, smirking at Louis as it though it were a challenge.

The door flies open and two brunette preteens throw themselves at Louis’ chest.

“Lou!” They squeal, strawberry scented hair flying way too close to his mouth.

“Phoebe! Dais!” He tries to match their enthusiasm, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes over their shoulders. Harry laughs, drawing the girls’ attention to him.

“So you weren’t lying about the boyfriend?” Phoebe still looks sceptical, looking Harry up and down. “No offence Lou but he looks too nice to be dating you.”

Louis squawks and elbows a cackling Harry.

“Yes, this is Harry, you cheeky brat.”

“Poor Harry,” she smirks, drawing more loud guffaws from Harry.

“You wanna come inside?” Daisy asks. She takes their bags from them, always the politer of the two. “Fizzy’ll be thrilled that you’re here. She still hasn’t decided which dress to wear to the rehearsal dinner.”

“Of course, she hasn’t,” Louis rolls his eyes, grinning helplessly. He absolutely adored Fizzy from the moment she was born. “Is she in her room?”

“Where else?” Daisy turns to Harry. Her light brown hair is pulled back in a high pony, drawing attention to her pink glitter eyeshadow and expertly contoured cheeks. She’s only thirteen but she already looks the same age as Fizzy, much to Louis’ horror. “She barely comes out of it these days. She’s always on the phone to her boyfriend.”

“She’s fifteen,” Louis groans, “she’s not allowed to have a boyfriend until she’s twenty-one!”

Harry chuckles.

Dan rounds the corner of the front room, a worn out look on his face.

“I thought I heard an overprotective older brother,” he says, exchanging his noticeably wan look for one of welcome.

Louis ignores the small strands of silver running through his sandy coloured hair and the sudden appearance of premature wrinkles. He looked worn down on Skype but in person he looks positively exhausted. Louis disregards this as he sinks into his stepfathers embrace, eyes sliding closed.

“How are you, Lou?” His fingers cup the back of Louis’ neck, squeezing tightly. “We’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Louis tells him, wishing once again he could tell them all why he left. If only he’d been honest with them from the very beginning, he never would have found himself in this position. “Cali has nothing on this place.”

“I knew you hated it as much as I do!” Harry crows, smugness radiating from his every pore.

Dan pulls back from their embrace to inspect their boisterous newcomer. He folds his arms over each other and sets his jaw in a lame attempt at an overprotective stepdad.

“You’re the new boyfriend, then? The one that lives here in the UK?”

“Um, yeah.” Remarkably, Harry looks nervous, shuffling his feet and sending panicked looks Louis’ way. “I’m Harry Styles, sir. You must be Dan.”

He offers a hand to Dan which is when Louis notices the sparkly black jewels that adorn all ten of his fingers.

“You’re like some kind of weird hipster pirate!”

Only after the fact does he realise how strange this must sound to Dan who thinks they’ve been dating for months.

“Thanks, babe.” Harry sends him a warning look. “I love your style too.”

Louis giggles at that and continues to giggle when Dan knocks Harry’s hand away and wraps him up in a tight hug instead, slapping at his back.

“Welcome to our home!” he says, eyes sparkling. “I’m sure Jay would have loved to have met you.”

They’re all quiet for a moment, heads bowed. Their ancient grandfather clock ticks away in the living room, making the silence seem that much more conspicuous.

“So, are you going to go sort your sister’s fashion crisis out or not?” Dan prompts, interrupting the awful silence.

“Oh, we are.” Louis drags Harry by the hand. “Poor Harry has no idea what’s he in for.”

Louis pulls Harry up the white cascading staircase which spirals up into the second floor of their house. There are blue stained-glass windows the whole way up, which are less reminiscent of a church and more reminiscent of the kind of art deco style Harry clearly loves.

“If you stare any harder, you’ll break them.” Louis laughs, secretly endeared with the way Harry reaches out to touch them, gently fanning his fingers out over each one.

“I love this house.” Harry sighs and crosses to the other side of the staircase, examining the floral detail on the balustrade. “Has it been in your family for long?”

“Six generations.” Louis nods. “The garden is the only thing mum changed. When she was growing up here, she used to bring a new plant home every day. She gave all of them names and if a plant died, she’d hold a funeral for it and invite over all the neighbours.”

He grins.

“Did anyone come?” Harry glides his hand up and over the balustrade as they climb higher, a hint of a smile on his face.

“No.” Harry’s face drops with disappointment. “…they all did. My mum said they must have felt sorry for her parents, having to deal with a nutter like her, but I just think she was the kind of person you’d follow anywhere. She had heart and courage in equal spades and I think that’s pretty rare, you know?”

Harry’s eyes roam his face, collecting more and more pieces of his soul with every inspection.

“Yeah.” His sharp jawline is suddenly soft and his eyes, too. It’s a simple, closed mouth smile pressed into a hint of a dimple. “It is”

The hallway is quiet when they get up there, though they can both feel the bass. It runs from the other end of the hallway to the top of the staircase, vibrating under their feet. One of the other upgrades Jay made to the house was the soundproofing of Fizzy’s bedroom. It only partially works.

“Can poor Harry have some idea of what he’s in for?”

“Not a chance,” Louis snickers and resumes dragging him.

Harry’s eyes find the frames tacked to the wall along the hallway and he squeezes Louis’ wrist.

“Yes, that’s her.” He confirms. “Fizzy looks just like her.”

“She’s beautiful,” Harry gapes, eyes slowly tracing the pictures. He turns to Louis just before they reach Fizzy’s door. “You look like her too, you know. Same sparkle in your eye. Same enigmatic smile.”

Louis presses his teeth into his lips, blatantly hiding the extent of his feelings. Harry smiles slowly, as if he knows.

The door swings open before they can finish their moment, Taylor Swift pouring out from inside.

“Well, are you going to help me pick a dress or not? It’s about time, brother.” Fizzy sighs, dragging him inside. “I was ready to drive down to the airport myself.”

“You don’t have a license,” Louis laughs, breathy.

“Details,” she flutters a hand through the air. Every nail is painted a different colour. Louis knows she’s probably been trying out colour schemes for hours. “So,” she turns on Harry, “are you the man that’s going to convince my big brother to move back home?”

She looks up at him with thinly veiled glee. She has two perfectly straight sheets of dark hair hanging either side of her face and her light green eyes have gone wide and persuasive. It gives her the appearance of an older, much more conniving Wednesday Addams.

“Um,” Harry looks just as panicked as he had with Dan, if not more so. “Yes?”

Louis sniggers and pulls Harry into the room by his shirt.

“Leave him alone, Fizz. He’s just been assaulted,” he coughs, “I mean, embraced, by Dan.”

“You poor thing,” She places a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Did he do the fake intimidation thing and then try to squeeze the life out of you? He did it to my boyfriend too. My boyfriend is only eighteen, though, so he actually found it intimidating.”

“He’s how old?” Louis glowers.

“Don’t even,” she flutters her hand at him. “Lou, if Harry lives here...how did you meet? Like, how did you get to know him? And don’t give me that bullshit story you gave the rest of them about Harry constantly representing clients in L.A.”

“ _Language_. And how is that a bullshit story?!” He demands, sending his own help signals to a useless Harry.

She flops back onto her bed. It’s covered in what Louis assumes are outfit options for the rehearsal dinner and a bunch of National Geographic magazines, fanned out in every direction. Her room is still the pale pink colour Jay painted it when she was young, even though before Jay got sick, she demanded it be changed.

“I know you,” she laughs. “I know you’d never date someone who doesn’t live in your city, let alone the same country. Not after having your heart broken so many times.”

“I haven’t had my heart broken.”

“Oh please! You may not have told me when it happened but don’t think we didn’t notice you moping around here every weekend. You got your heart broken so you left. Then six months later you turn up with some new boyfriend none of us have heard of and he looks like you picked him straight out of a catalogue. Mum wouldn’t have fallen for this charade and neither am I.”

She crosses her arms, looking unbearably smug and this is why Louis adores her so much (mostly). She’s got all the smarts in the family.

“She’s wordy for a fifteen-year-old,” Harry comments.

Louis sighs.

“You’re telling me. Okay Fizz, you got me. He’s not my actual boyfriend but you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Lottie.”

“What, why?” She narrows her eyes. “What would Lottie care?”

Harry walks over and flops down on the bed beside her, much to her obvious surprise. He grabs a bottle of sparkly purple polish, some matching kitten heels and a black spaghetti strap dress. Understated but elegant. Perfect for a rehearsal dinner. He hands them to her, grinning at her wide-eyed look. Not many people catch her off guard. She skipped a whole grade level when she was younger, due to her overwhelming intellect, but also manages to be one of the most beloved girls in her year.

“Don’t you think it would be nice for Lottie to see your brother happy for once, especially after all that moping around?” Harry posits. “Louis hired me because he wants Lottie to have the best wedding possible.” It’s not a total lie. “And I think telling your sister would get in the way of that, don’t you think?”

Fizzy glances between their pleading looks. Louis thinks she might just be weighing up how best to ruin them. Shockingly, she shrugs and dances off the bed, clothes in hand.

“Fine. Shoo, shoo.” She pushes Harry off her bed and into Louis, shaking the dress at them. “I need to try this on.”

Harry pulls Louis this time, shutting the door behind them both and flashing Louis a lopsided grin.

“I feel like if I was actually your boyfriend, that would have been the real test.”

“You’re not wrong,” Louis laughs, linking their arms. “C’mon, let me go introduce you to the babies.”

“The babies?” Harry grips his arm. “You didn’t tell me there was going to be babies?”

“Well technically they’re not really babies anymore but they’re still babies to me.”

Harry looks thrilled at the prospect and when they make their way into the twins’ room, Louis gets to sees why. Harry’s a natural with Ernest and Doris, engaging them both in educational play and keeping them in constant fits of giggles.

“You’re a baby whisperer, huh?” Louis nudges him. They’re making their way up the spiral staircase to the third and final floor.

“Something like that.” Harry grins. “I used to babysit for pocket money.”

“I bet these got pulled on a lot.” He tugs on an errant curl.

“Only always. They also got braided, tangled and clipped at every opportunity.”

Louis squints at him.

“I imagine you’d look good with space buns.”

“You can keep imagining.” Harry wraps his arms around himself, shuffling away from Louis’ deviousness. “My hair is precious.”

“Damn escorts and their looks.”

They share a grin. When they reach the guest room, Harry turns to him.

“So, Lottie and Zayn will join us for dinner then?”

Louis opens the door and hears Harry gasp, his eyes roving hungrily over the crisp blue and white bed set, the matching fluffed up pillows and the luxury bedhead, done in dark mahogany. He dumps his suitcase by the bed and dives onto it, stretching out across it with his hands behind his head.

“Yep,” Louis says. “We have less than an hour to get our story straight.”

He collapses onto the bed beside Harry and rolls onto his side, squeaking in surprise when the bed suddenly dips beneath him, rolling him into Harry’s chest.

“Shit.” He grabs Harry’s bicep, his other hand finding the other man’s stomach. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry laughs but it comes out tight and awkward. He squeezes Louis’ wrist. “I’m not complaining.”

He follows it up with the predatory wink Louis’ come to expect and Louis groans, using the hand on Harry’s stomach to roll away from him.

“We don’t have time for your antics!”

“Antics,” he laughs, a grin twitching over his lips.

“We need to discuss how we met. Please.”

Harry’s restless humour seems to shift at that and he reaches over to cup Louis’ face, brushing a thumb over his exposed cheekbone.

“I’m thinking it went something like this...”

A few hours later, they both jump at the sound of the door. They’re in the living room, perched on the edge of the navy couch, the girls seated all around them. Fizzy is reading, Phoebe is doing Daisy’s hair, and the twins are fighting over who gets to draw with which crayons. Rupaul’s Drag Race is playing on the TV and Harry and Louis had been busy hotly debating the suspension of all-star rules. The sound of the door is enough to halt their debate.

“I thought you were supposed to be confident in these situations!” Louis hisses in his ear.

“I’ve never had to be the star boyfriend before!” he hisses back. Upon seeing the panicked look on Louis’ face, he reaches and knits their fingers. “But it’s going to be okay. We’ve got this, okay?”

Louis nods but his knee is bouncing up and down. Harry presses their conjoined hands down over his leg, forcing him to stop.

“Darling,” Dan is bellowing from the front room. The sound of more than one pair of footsteps carries all the way into the living room. “I think you’ll love what we’ve done with the chapel. The girls and I were stringing up lights all day.”

Let it be known that Louis’ family would never do anything by halves. Lottie is an amateur makeup artist who has yet to crack the entertainment industry and her salary alone wasn’t going to get her the wedding of her dreams. Zayn’s revenue from the company should have been sufficient but Louis wasn’t surprised to hear that he said they should “invest in the future” rather than the biggest day of his little sister’s life. Instead, Dan has done just about everything within his power to shape this low budget wedding into the flawless event Lottie deserves.

“That’s great, Dan,” comes a voice that is certainly not Lottie. “We appreciate your help.”

Louis’ breath hitches, noticeable only to Harry who squeezes his fingers tight. Every hair on his body stands on end at the sound of that smoky, tenor voice. It’s the voice that used to sing him to sleep when his mum was sick and the same voice that he needed to hear most the day she died. It’s the voice of the man who made him come and the voice

of the man who, years later, made him cry. There are all sorts of sensations and memories linked to that voice, existing imprints of the way he used to feel.

“Forget him,” Harry whispers in his ear and his minty breath swirls around Louis’ cheek.

“Look at me.”

The commanding tone of his voice is such that Louis’ neck bends instantly, their eyes slotting together. There’s lush countryside in Harry’s eyes and soft emerald valleys, too.  It’s like the rush of a giant carnival being swallowed by the sudden quiet of a library.

Harry’s hand presses against his lower back, grounding him in the moment, while the other finds the base of his neck. He pulls Louis into him and his eyes latch onto something over his shoulder. Whatever it is makes him cuss and pull Louis even closer.

“I want you to laugh like the last six months were the best of your life,” he whispers, “In five, four, three, two, one— “

Louis turns his lips into Harry’s neck and lets out a breathless laugh. It shifts straight into an obnoxious giggle that makes Harry’s chest rumble with authentic laughter.

“Was that okay?” Louis whispers, pressing a theatrical kiss to Harry’s shoulder.

“Perfect.” His thumb gently caresses the back of Louis’ neck, sending shivers down his spine. “I think he hates me already.”

“Louis, you’re here!” A squeal pierces the air. “I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

Louis turns and greets his sister with an unnaturally bright grin. He takes long strides to meet her, clasping her tight and rocking her from side to side. They stand directly between the two shabby blue couches Jay used to curl up on when she wasn’t undergoing treatment, her arms curled around whichever child had won the privilege of cuddling with her.

“I missed you so much,” Louis buries his face in her shoulder, kissing her cheek. She’s covered in a ridiculously dark tan, blonder than when he last saw her, and wearing eyelashes that are miles too long but she still looks like his sister. She still has the same grin.  “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

The “to my ex” is something he leaves out.

“Me either.” She  pulls back, wide eyed happiness written all over her face. “I just wish mum was here to see it.”

“Me too.” He gives her arm a squeeze. “But I’m sure she’ll be watching from up there, crying her eyes out, like usual.”

Lottie laughs, then turns to offer a hand to the man hovering just behind her. Zayn. The memory of all they shared is lodged between Louis’ ribs and he struggles just to get a breath out. He’s just staring, stupefied, at the man who once told Louis he was his “forever muse.”

“Louis, this is Zayn.” She slides an arm around his waist, nuzzling into his neck with a wide smile. This is the moment two of the most important men in her life meet. This is the moment where the last two pieces fall into place.

Zayn is dark stubble and honeyed eyes. He’s tall, omnipresent and looking at Louis as though they have unfinished business. His dark gaze penetrates the clothes Louis never would have worn while he was with him and it stings as much as it heals. Louis tries to tell himself this was never about proving something, this was never about drawing Zayn’s gaze to him and away from his sister. Yet, he can’t deny the way that warmth pools in his belly. He can’t deny the burst of energy that zips up his spine.

“It’s nice to properly meet you, Louis. I think we’re going to get on famously.” He reaches out with both hands, clasping Louis’ wrist and swallowing up his fingers. His eyes peruse the entirety of Louis’ face before reluctantly shifting over to the person Louis can feel looming over his shoulder. “And this is?”

“Harry.” His charming escort snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him into his side and away from Zayn’s grip. His own hand reaches out to replace Louis’, gripping Zayn so hard that the muscles on both their arms begin to bulge. “I’m Louis’ boyfriend.”

Zayn curls his lips into the vindictive smile Louis remembers.

“You two sure make a beautiful couple.”

Harry chuckles lowly and Zayn’s eyes narrow and fall to the place where Harry’s squeezing him tightly. His fingers drift even lower in response, stroking the bottom of Louis’ hip. Louis shudders a little and sinks back into it.

“Lou, I’m so happy!” Lottie interrupts, dispelling any nuclear tension. “Harry, tell us how you met!”

They take a seat across from Lottie and Zayn, whose demeanours could not be more different if they tried. Lottie is leaning forward with a dopey smile on her face, her chin resting in her hand. Zayn sits back with arms crossed, refusing to look them in the eye.

“Well,” Harry flashes him an intimate smile, his eyes dancing over Louis’ features. “I had a client over in L.A and as I was travelling back to the airport, Louis just happened to be crossing the road. He wasn’t looking where he was going...”

“As usual,” Fizzy chimes in. She smirks at him from her spot in the armchair, a book in one hand and a cup of tea clasped in the other.

Harry snickers, unaware that the fabricated story they agreed on actually might ring true.

“Basically, he almost ran me over.” Louis butts in, rolling his eyes the same way he would if this were true. “He blames it on the late hour, poor street lighting and the fact that I was wearing all black…but honestly, I just think he was just distracted by my gorgeous face.”

“And your gorgeous body.” Harry winks.

A chorus of groans surround them. Louis’ eyes go straight to Zayn whose whole face is schooled into impassiveness. It’s the same look he wore in boardroom meetings and on their few public outings. It’s the look of someone who doesn’t want anyone to know what they’re feeling.

“So, he almost ran you over?” Dan grins at them from the lounge, crossing one leg over the other. “That seduced you, did it, Lou?”

He grimaces.

“Don’t say ‘seduce.’ You’re like my dad.”

Not that he has one of those, Louis thinks, not that he ever did. Dan is the closest thing he’s got to a parent now.

“I  _am_  your dad.” Dan shuts his insecurities down with a single look. “And I’ll prove it. Don’t think I won’t be having a talk with Harry, here, about what his intentions are.”

He turns and winks at Harry who makes a show of ducking down behind Louis.

“Get up, you coward.” Louis reaches back to tug at a wayward curl. “I’m not going to save you.”

Harry presses a kiss to the back of his hair and Louis fights the strange instinct to turn and wrap himself around Harry’s body.

“He wasn’t seduced by my driving ability. He was seduced by my effervescent charm.”

“That and your six pack,” Louis twists his body around just so he can pat Harry’s stomach.

Harry shakes his head and catches wrists Louis’ wrists in his hands. He uses them to pull Louis in.

“Cheeky,” he rubs their noses together, lips pressed together into a wide, pink smile. “I’ll punish you later.”

This only earns more groans from his family and an equally unimpressed look from Zayn.

“Well, you guys are clearly in love,” Lottie claps her hands together, startling them both. “I can’t believe Louis finally found someone who looks at him like you do, Harry.”

“Like what?” Harry cocks his head.

“Like you know exactly how to make him happy,” Dan says, “and will never stop trying.”

“Oh.” Harry blushes wildly. “Well, I...yeah. He’s, um, he’s kind of incredible to be around, isn’t he? You just want to charm the pants off him all the time. I mean, shit, I didn’t mean that literally.” He shoots Dan a wide-eyed look. “I just meant, um…he’s wicked fierce and smart and obviously gorgeous.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. That didn’t sound very well-rehearsed. That sounded almost too genuine. Harry blushes harder. He looks about two seconds from bolting when he suddenly smirks and relaxes back into the couch, leaving Louis bewildered.

Fizzy flashes him a discreet thumbs up and it gives Louis a funny feeling in his stomach to know she approves of the handsome stranger stretched out on their couch, particularly when she knows it’s all a sham. It makes him think his mum would have approved too; that maybe she would have even been just as taken with him as Louis is.

“The others are right, Harry.” Fizzy says. “It’s about time he met you because he usually dates such jerks.”

Harry and Louis share a look of mirth then burst into laughter.

“What is it?” Lottie narrows her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Zayn glowers at them both, pulling Lottie into his side and pressing his lips to her neck.

“Forget it.” He says, “it’s probably an inside joke.”

That only makes them snort harder and Lottie continues to pester them about it until the timer for dinner goes off.

“We should eat,” Dan places his glasses back in their case. “Fizzy, do you want to help me set the table?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“That depends on whether you want to eat or not.”

Fizzy sighs and hauls herself out of the chair, leaving only awkwardness behind her.

“So, Zayn,” Harry pulls a packet of cigarettes from his jacket, which is curious considering he mentioned how much he despises them. “Do you smoke?”

Zayn’s eyes dart from Harry to him, as if this might be some kind of trick.

“I enjoy one every now and then.” He admits, which is a bold-faced lie. He’s a chain smoker, if ever Louis saw one.

“Join me outside?” Harry points his head at the balcony and then squeezes Louis’ thigh.

Louis hadn’t even realised he’d been bouncing it up and down again.

“Sure.”

Louis’ eyes follow them all the way outside, trying to guess just from the shape of their backs just what kind of conversation they might be having.

“Think they might kill each other?” Lottie says and collapses on the couch beside him.

“What? Why would they do that?”

Lottie raises an eyebrow.

“Because you’re Zayn’s brother in law. He’s very protective of you, you know.”

Louis doesn’t care to remind her that they aren’t family yet. Zayn has no reason to be “protective” over someone he scarcely knows, at least as far as Lottie is aware.

“He is?” He says instead, a little breathless.

“Well yeah. I told him all about how heartbroken you seemed before you left and I think maybe it reminded him of his own brother. It seemed to hit him really hard.”

“Oh.” His palms feel clammy. “That’s, um...nice?”

“Yeah.” Lottie knocks their shoulders together, her face glowing. It’s not just the amount of highlighter she wears or the bright eyeshadow above her eyes. It’s him and the way he makes her feel. Louis recognises that look because he had worn it once too, before it all came crashing down around him, before his heart was trampled. “He’s a great guy.”

Say something, Louis’ heart tells him. She deserves to know. But there’s something holding him back. He doesn’t want to ruin this for her, not now, not when it’s only been a year since the worst day of their lives. And though he doesn’t want to admit it, a part of him is still doing exactly what Zayn asked of him. A part of him is still keeping their secret.

Their respective ‘boyfriends’ linger outside for what seems like an age. The whole family is seated at the table, a steaming roast dinner piled high in front of them, when they return. The back door clicks open and the two men stride into the kitchen, equally impassive looks on their faces. As soon as Harry sits down, his palm finds Louis’ leg and he squeezes it gently before pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“Ew.” Louis wrinkles his nose at him. “You smell like cheap menthols.”

Harry laughs into his cheek, giving his thigh a harder squeeze.

After dinner, Louis feigns jet lag, begging Harry to carry him up to bed. It’s more theatrical than he really needs to be with his whole family watching on. Yet, he can feel a set of tawny brown eyes digging into their backs as Harry gathers him against his chest and sets off up the stairs, talking to him in low dulcet tones.

“So,” Louis jumps down from his embrace the moment the guest room door clicks shut. “Tell me everything.”

“Well,” Harry shucks off his suit jacket, hanging it up inside the closet. “He seems a little hung up on you, if I’m honest.”

Harry’s spine looks ramrod beneath his shirt. He won’t look Louis in the eye as he divests himself of his trousers, ripping them away to reveal a pair of strong pale thighs and a pert arse.

“Oh?” Louis’ face is hot for all kinds of reasons and only half of them to do with his ex. “Um, what did he say?”

He tries not to stare as Harry pulls his shirt up and over his shoulders, folding it up into a neat square and placing it inside his bag. His back muscles jump where he’s bent over on the floor, rearranging his clothes, and it’s giving Louis all kinds of inappropriate feelings. Harry turns to meet his probing look. His mouth looks entirely too stiff.

“What do you want to hear?”

“I...what?” Louis stops with his hands around his jeans. His belt lays abandoned on the floor beside his crumpled top.

“Do you want me to say he’s in love with Lottie,” he pauses, “or do you want me to say he’s in love with you?”

“Lottie,” Louis turns away from him, undoing his watch. He places it on the bedside table. “Of course, Lottie.”

“I don’t believe you.” Louis storms into the bathroom to get away but Harry follows him in. Louis grabs his toothbrush, squeezing a line of toothpaste out onto it before shoving it into the side of his mouth. “I think you want to hear he’s still hung up on you. You don’t actually want him to marry Lottie. You’re not here to prove you’re better off without him, you’re here to win him back…aren’t you?

“No.” Louis meets his eyes in the mirror, sending him a piercing look. Harry seems momentarily fixated by the fluttering of muscles in his bicep, stimulated by his aggressive toothbrushing. “You’re wrong. Completely wrong. Do I have some feelings for him?” He cocks his head. “Maybe.”

“Yes,” Harry mutters, “not maybe.”

Louis glowers.

“But do I want my sister to be happy? Yes. Do I want her to have the wedding she deserves? Of course, I do. I’ve dreamed about her wedding since I was a little boy when mum promised me I would get to walk her down the aisle.”

Harry’s temper seems to cool by about a hundred degrees. He approaches the sink. His warm palms skate down and across Louis’ bare shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy for you. I just...I worry that you’re still so attached.”

“So what if I am, Harry?” Louis spits in the sink, washing it down with the water on full blast. “What difference does it make to you?”

Harry’s forehead fills with deeply etched lines.

“I care about you, Louis. Already, I do. I can tell you take this new, remorseful Zayn at face value but I don’t trust him. I don’t like the guy at all.”

“I got that much,” He chuckles and turns and heads for their room. Harry follows him in. “You looked like you were going to go and brawl outside.”

“I told him, point blank, that I know every little bit of history he shared with you.” Harry peels back the corner of the bed, slipping in under the covers. “And he jumped about a foot.”

“Ballsy,” Louis compliments him, flipping the light switch off and flicking the lamp on instead. He turns around and shoves his jeans down his thighs, bending down to pull them away from his feet. At the same time, Harry appears to choke on his salvia, spluttering into the pillow like Louis just sucked all the oxygen out of the room. “Very ballsy of you.”

Louis snags a dogeared book from his suitcase along with his glasses case and slips into bed. Harry’s bare chest is right there, inches from his face, when he lies down, and Louis is just like any other hot-blooded, sex starved male. Lust pools in his groin and his hole clenches greedily but he forces the fantasy away, shifting against the sheets.

“He said he regrets every second and that if he had his time twice, he would have done things different.” Harry rolls onto the side facing Louis and slides a hand beneath his cheek. “Then he said that he still thinks about you all time, that as much as he loves Lottie, it makes him crazy to think about you being with someone else.”

“Oh.” Louis can’t stop saying that. To avoid looking at Harry, he pulls his glasses out of the case and slides them over his nose. “That’s...”

“Disappointing?” Harry is following his gaze, his hand reaching out to hold his wrist. “I understand if it is. Despite what I said before, I understand if you have mixed emotions.”

“I do...I definitely do.” Louis presses his thumb into Harry’s palm, gripping the backs of his fingers. “You said he seemed hung up on me?”

“I asked him if he’d let you go, that I needed to know...” Harry turns his hand over, “and he said he wasn’t sure he had yet. That he was still working on it.”

“I don’t know what to do with that.” Louis reaches back to the bedside table to grab his book, bringing it with him when he rolls back over. “This is so much harder than I thought.”

“I’ll bet.”

Harry’s voice is soft. The silence that follows it; grave but breathable.

“You should know, you look just as hot in glasses as you do out of them.”

Louis snorts and pushes his nose into Harry’s neck, not thinking about weight distribution when he presses his hand into his bare shoulder. For one long moment, their bodies roll into and against each other, purely due to the dip of the mattress.

“I knew I could make you smile,” Harry sounds smug. His nose is buried in Louis’ hair and there’s a warm hand pressed to the small of his back. It reminds him how naked they both are.

“Off with ye,” Louis pushes him away, even though he was the one to roll into him. “I’ve got reading to do.”

“What’s on tomorrow?”.

Harry rolls away from him and all the muscles in his back ripple like a rolling tide.

“Ah...” He might be dribbling.

“Lou?” Harry turns his head back to shoot him a bemused smile.

“Oh, um. Sorry. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, we’re having the whole family over for a game of cricket and a barbecue.”

“Okay. Don’t read for too long,” Harry gives his hand a squeeze. “You need your beauty sleep.”

Louis smiles at him, ignoring the stirrings of an unnamed emotion.

“I won’t. See you in the morning, Harry.”

“Night Lou. Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams are made of this, Louis hums. He’s very glad he found an escort as lovely as this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think <3 Thanks so much for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis wears a pink crop top and faded blue denim shorts to the midday cricket game the next day. It’s an event his stepfather loves to hold at least once every year. It’s a whole family thing and thus usually ends in some kind of shouting match that can only be resolved with alcohol. In this sense, his family are true Brits.

Louis feels fit and fabulous when he struts out into the yard, the half-baked sun hitting the caramel highlights in his hair. His skin is a little dewy and he can feel the redness in his face increasing by the moment but he feels like he’s working it on a runway. He’s living his fantasy the entire time. Unfortunately, his outfit only holds Zayn’s attention long enough for Louis’ cousin to bowl the ball.

“Your behaviour is completely transparent,” Harry whispers, squeezing his hip from behind.

Louis just doused himself with an entire bottle of water, barely earning a second look from Zayn, who was too busy yelling at his teammates to spread out.

“I wasn’t —“

“I’m not saying it’s not hot. It is,” Harry’s breath is warm on his cheek, the hand on his hip pulling him back against Harry’s body in a show of possessiveness. “Believe me. But if you want him to eat his heart out, me touching you is the best way.”

Sure enough, when Louis glances up, Zayn is not looking at the ball coming his way or at Lottie, cheering him on from the sidelines. His eyes are glued to Harry’s hand, inching its way down Louis’ bare midriff. Louis shudders, a little from the touch and a little from the heat of Zayn’s gaze, torn between the intensity of both men.

“Yeah, tilt your head back and gasp just like that.” Harry coaches him, reacting to Louis’ sigh, assuming it had been intentional. “Make your O face.”

Louis does exactly that, rolling his hips a little and smiling at the huff of surprise Harry makes in response.

“That good?”

Harry’s response takes a second.

“Yeah, just keep doing that.”

When it’s Louis’ turn to bat, Zayn is first to bowl. Louis steps up to the wicket and sticks his arse out, catching Zayn’s eye.

“C’mon Zayn,” he calls out, then lowers his voice. “Make me feel it.”

Zayn barely flinches, bowling him out on the first ball.

“Help,” Louis whispers as he passes Harry, “please help me.”

Harry gives his neck a squeeze and unexpectedly plants a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.  Louis watches, dazed, as he steps up to the wicket.

“You ready, mate?” Zayn is bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Or too busy kissing your boyfriend?”

“I’m ready,” Harry smacks the bat into the ground a couple of times. “Hit me.”

Zayn seems to take that literally because he bowls the ball directly at Harry’s face. Louis’ entire body tenses as the ball whizzes through the air, hurtling towards Harry’s face at lightning speed. He presses up onto the balls of his feet so he can see it clearly, clenching every muscle in his feet. Harry steps back at the last second, allowing the ball to fall and hit the bat at the precise moment he smashes it through the air. It’s a six. Somehow, it’s a six and everyone on Louis’ team is screaming.

Zayn is scowling at Harry, mortally wounded, and Fizzy shoves Louis in Harry’s direction. Louis lurches forward, unsure.

“Go get him, doofus.” She laughs. “Your fake boyfriend’s a superstar.”

She happens to be right. Louis runs as fast as his legs can carry him, until he’s close enough to jump into Harry’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist. Harry’s eyes widen in the moment before impact but he catches Louis perfectly, wrapping his arms around him and spinning him around like they’re on their own private merry go round.

“Kiss me,” Harry stage whispers. “Make him feel it.”

The fact that’s in an echo of Louis’ failed double entendre just endears him to Louis more. He takes Harry’s head between his hands and gives him a kiss that would make prostitutes blush. It’s slick and breathy and a little bit bitey but Harry is giving just as good as he gets. His hands side down over Louis’ arse and he squeezes him roughly.  Louis finds himself whispering obscenities into Harry’s plush mouth.

The world is silent around them, or so Louis thinks. Then Harry pulls back from him, looking just as devastating ruined as he does when he’s well put together. Sounds slowly filter back into Louis’ consciousness and the sweet taste of Harry’s mouth fades from his lips.

“Okay, enough is enough. We get it!” Louis’ cousin is shouting. “Harry hearts Louis. Louis hearts Harry. Can we get on with the game now?”

Louis buries his grin in the base of Harry’s neck and Harry flutters a protective hand over the base of his. They share a synchronised laugh, their bodies shaking as one.

When they head into the courtyard afterwards, Louis squeezes Harry’s hand in a silent thank you. Harry silently squeezes back.

***

The barbecue is over. Most of the meat has been devoured and the salad Harry piled onto Louis’ plate, without asking, is completely untouched. Louis gets up from the table, offering to get some more champagne and to clean up the dishes for Dan.

“I’ll help you,” Harry says, reaching out for Louis’ hand, a strange reverence in his smile.

“No,” Louis squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head at Fizzy, “You continue your debate. Lord of the rings versus Harry Potter.” He fists pumps the air. “Go Harry Potter.”

“That’s my boy,” Harry grins and squeezes his hip.

Louis swallows noisily and only just resists the temptation to curl up in his lap. Instead, he makes his way into the deserted house. He’s singing softly to himself while he gathers up the remains of his stepfather’s cooking, wrapping up the leftovers and disposing of what can’t be saved.

“Hey,” comes a soft voice, startling him from where he’d been bent over the bin, scraping the dishes.

He turns up into the voice with a smile, expecting Harry. Instead, he finds Zayn standing there with thick eyebrows knit low over dark, brooding eyes. His hands are buried in the front of his tailored trousers and he looks nothing like the smug bastard Louis knows he can be.

“Can we talk?”

“What’s to talk about, Z?” he sighs. He’s thinking of Harry, waiting for him to return. He’s thinking of how much laughter they’ve shared today, how many touches beneath the table. “Maybe it’s time we all move on.”

“You clearly have,” he says, curt. “Is Harry the man of your dreams, then?”

“I dunno,” Louis stands up and crosses his arms. He changed out of his denim shorts and crop top combo earlier. Now he’s swimming in a pair of Harry’s grey joggers and his black studded jacket. When the sun fell behind the hills that surround them, bathing their country house in pale blue light, Harry had offered it to him with a smile. “Is Lottie the woman of yours?”

“Lou—”

Zayn is just about to reply, with what Louis doesn’t know, when Harry steps out from the wine cellar, carrying a bottle of champagne.

“You forgot to bring this back,” his eyes dart between them, cataloguing both their proximity and the intensity of their looks. “I was worried you fell into the dishwasher.”

Louis crosses the room and grabs the bottle from him, refusing to look back at the man who effectively told him he was just a good fuck.

“Let’s go open it then, shall we? I’m craving bubbles.”

Harry’s grin is soft and genuine. He opens the back door and guides Louis through it with a hand on his lower back.

“A man after my own heart.”

When Harry looks at him like that, as if nothing else in the room has permission to exist, Louis feels like the last six months are a distant memory. He feels like he can finally breathe again.

***

“Is this what you’re wearing to the wedding?”

Louis is standing in front of the wardrobe mirror, fixing his hair, when Harry comes up behind him. His eyes are on Louis’ light grey tux, surveying him with interest. Louis’ light blue shirt is buttoned high beneath a navy-blue tie, peeking out the top of a tight grey vest.

“No,” He dusts the lint off his jacket. “No one in my family would dare wear the same thing to both the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.”

“Of course not,” Harry bows exaggeratedly, “forgive me. It’s just that you look, like, stop eating hot.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him in the mirror.

“Are you quoting Joey Tribbiani at me?”

“I’m not,  _not_  quoting Joey Tribbiani at you.” He grins.

“Well, thanks.” Louis scans Harry’s white, floral patterned suit and the matching white rings on his hands. He looks spectacularly debonair. “You’re not so bad yourself. You should know, I’m a little,” he shifts his hand from side to side. “About this whole thing.”

Harry clicks his tongue.

“It must be hard. Last night, when I walked in on you—“

“We weren’t doing anything,” Louis shoots back.

“No, I know but whatever was going on between you; it was blazing.”

Louis shuts the door to the wardrobe and turns to face Harry. His head lands against it with a quiet thud.

“I feel like the other woman.” His eyes flutter shut and he clenches his fists, taking a short, unsteady breath. “And I hate that. It makes me feel cheap and just… soft, you know?”

“You are soft,” Louis can hear the quiet hissing that the fabric on Harry’s trouser legs makes as he draws near. Yet, when his hands find Louis’ waist, a startled breath is punched out of him. “Criminally so. The way you are with your family, the way you are with me, it’s soft. But you’re strong too. The way you look at him, the way you challenge me.”

“I challenge you?” Louis’ vision is hazy when he opens his eyes. Harry’s thumbs drag back and forth over his hipbones, making his back arch and his mouth go dry.

“Since we first met.” He nods. “You’re nothing like my other clients, nothing like the men I’ve dated.”

“How so?” Louis tilts his neck, watching Harry’s gaze fall to exactly that spot.

“You have so much insecurity.”

Louis’ stomach drops and his cheeks grow warm with misplaced hope. He attempts to push past Harry, hoping to dislodge his hands, but Harry only tightens his grip, keeping him pinned against the door.

“But you also possess a courage that defies it.”

Louis inhales deeply.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

Harry’s gaze is blazing hot when his right hand finds Louis’ jaw, his thumb gliding over the fine traces of stubble Louis left while shaving.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why do you keep telling me to do that?” He laughs. “I’m starting to think you have a kink.”

“Close your eyes,” Harry huffs, a smile lurking around the sharp edges of his cheek.

Louis finally does as asked.

“Is this your move?” He teases. “Is this how you impress a date?”

“No.” Laughter runs parallel to Harry’s voice. “This is.”

He lowers his mouth to Louis’ ear, sliding his hands down around his throat, and tilting him even further back against the door. A current of electricity runs down Louis’ spine as anticipation zips through him.

“You’re a gorgeous person, inside and out. You deserve every bit of happiness you didn’t get with him.” He plants a wet kiss on Louis’ adam’s apple, dragging his mouth back and forth as it bobs beneath his lips. “He’s going to be so sorry he lost you. He’s going to feel it every day for the rest of his life.”

Louis’ eyes smart and his mouth parts with a sigh. Then Harry’s face ghosts just past his, not quite connecting, and Louis is left trembling against the wardrobe, aching to be kissed.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Harry squeezes his waist, “even if it’s exactly what you want. You deserve it, Louis. You deserve to be kissed the way you want. But if I kiss you, if I really kiss you, it will be because you’re ready to admit you want it.”

He pulls away and Louis gazes after him, chest deflating like a popped balloon.

“Shit, you’re worth every penny.”

 ***

“Grandpa, this is Harry. He’s my boyfriend.” Louis introduces them with a simmering smile.

“Barry?” His grandpa bellows, taking Harry’s hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Barry.”

Louis’ grandpa is as loveable as he is deaf. He’s an eighty-six-year-old retiree but he carries around a bright gold cane and is always dressed in shirts that are as loud as Harry’s.

“No, Harry!” Louis laughs. “It’s Harry!”

“Oh,” his grandpa cackles. “Well, Harry, tell us what it is you do.”

Twenty minutes into a conversation about the intricacies of law, Louis removes himself from the circle and heads off in search of a drink. Harry squeezes his waist as he goes and it feels awfully domestic.

The ballroom where the wedding reception will be held is packed from wall to wall with Louis’ relatives, voices rising in a cacophony of laughter and excited chatter, but the steady supply of liquor at the open bar is of great comfort. Thank god Zayn had been willing to splurge on this.

“A tequila sunrise.” Louis tells the bartender, tapping his phone against the bar.

While he’s waiting, someone slides in next to him, his spicy-sweet scent familiar to Louis, even now.

“Make it two,” Zayn says and nabs Louis’ drink, sucking the remains out while Louis watches on in disbelief. “Hey Lou.”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses, edging away. “Isn’t a tequila sunrise a little gay for you?”

Zayn shifts closer, keeping eye contact. He looks devastating in a close fit navy suit with a high collared white shirt underneath and his hair slicked back in a top-heavy quiff. His jaw is sporting full stubble, the way Louis always liked it, the way he knows for a fact, Lottie doesn’t.

“Not at all,” He pulls their drinks away from the bartender, pushing Louis’ towards him. He takes a long pull from his own. “Not anymore.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“I hope you’re going to shave before the wedding.” Louis sidelines the other conversation, the one he shouldn’t be having.

“Maybe.” His mouth ticks up. “Maybe not. About our conversation the other day—"

Louis leans in, not sure if he’s ready to hear whatever it is, but equally desperate to know what he’s thinking.

“There you are!” Harry snags Louis’ drink, sucking from it noisily. Can he finish one drink without someone stealing it? “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Harry.” Zayn nods at him, face pinched.

“Oh Zayn! Didn’t see you there.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

Louis can’t help but giggle at the look of murderous intent on his former boyfriend’s face.

“Lou, can I steal you for a minute?” Harry grips his shoulder.

“Actually, Lou and I were kind of in the middle of the something.”

“Well...” Louis glances between them. “Lou needs to go to the bathroom so if you’ll both excuse me.”

Louis squeezes out of the stool, receiving a wide-eyed pout from Harry and a look of dark intent from Zayn. He scurries off to the bathroom, shaking his head at the whole situation.

It probably shouldn’t be such a surprise when he exits the bathroom to find Harry leaning against the wall outside, one foot tucked up behind him.

“Waiting for me?” He says. “I’m flattered.”

Harry rolls his eyes, smiling, then tugs him out to the dance floor, pulling him close.

“You’re a very popular man tonight,” Louis comments.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Harry raises an eyebrow. “Everywhere I look, there are handsome men trying to get you alone. I mean, are you sure your cousins’ partners are straight? Because Simon kept finding ways to touch you and Hunter was following you around with his tongue out for at least half an hour.”

Louis shoves his palm into Harry’s shoulder.

“That’s not true!” He laughs, shaking his head. “I was showing him where to find everything.”

“Oh and he just had to walk two steps behind you while staring directly at your arse?” Harry squeezes his waist. “Not that I blame him for that.”

“We were talking about you.” Louis buffets his shoulder. “You hit it off with my grandad  _and_ my cousins. Not many people can tolerate that many members of my family at once.”

“Well, it’s kind of my area, isn’t it?” Harry’s pale skin is glowing, lit by the chandelier above him. His cheeks are flushed from the liquor and his dark hair is immaculately tousled. Louis feels privileged to see him like this. “Charming people is my job.”

Louis narrows his eyes.

“Something leads me to believe it’s more than just a job. It’s just you, isn’t it?” He digs his fingers into Harry’s shoulders. “You don’t have to make believe at all.”

Harry grins and uses his grip on Louis to send him into a well-timed dip, right when the music reaches its crescendo.

“I’m flattered.” Harry grasps him tight and hauls him back up, pulling him closer than before. “But I don’t think it’s me at all. Your family are easy to fall in love with.”

Harry is watching him so closely, his cheeks dimpling with the weight of his smile. Louis really wants to nuzzle into the space between his neck and shoulder so finally, he does.

“So are you.” Louis says and Harry jolts, fingers digging into his sides. “I mean...they’ve fallen for you too, you know.”

Harry sways them from side to side, humming the tune under his breath. When the song ends, Harry goes in search of new drinks and Louis finds himself once again accosted by Zayn.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, bowing his head and offering his hand to Louis, the perfect gentleman.

But he’s not perfect, is he? Louis reminds himself. He’s a heartbreaker, dressed in disguise.

“You don’t think that would look strange?” Louis raises his eyebrows. “That it might pose a problem for your fiancé?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about—”

He reaches for Louis’ hands but is intercepted once again when Harry steps between them, catching Louis’ hands instead.

“Couldn’t find a waiter,” he says. “and the bar is packed. You look tired, anyway. Shall I book us a car?”

Louis can’t decide if his timing is absolutely perfect or completely off.

“Yes,” he says, after a long, indecisive pause. Zayn is looking at him over Harry’s shoulder, mouth downturned, his eyes dark and liquid. “Let’s go.”

Once they’re safely in the car, Louis takes it up with him.

“You can’t stop us from having that conversation. It isn’t your choice to make.”

“It would be a mistake.” Harry’s gaze is on the scene outside, his eyes following the trail of drunken relatives who are busy staggering back to their cars. “I was trying to stop you making a mistake.”

“But it’s my mistake to make. I’m not paying you to keep me away from him.”

Harry’s body stiffens at the mention of payment.

“I know this is not a typical escort-client relationship—" Louis tries.

“You think?” Harry snorts, shaking his head. The buttery glow of streetlights flickers over one side of his face, highlighting his deep frown lines.

“But whatever this is...whatever fondness we have,” Harry snorts again, “it’s separate from my issues with Zayn.”

“Look, I know I told you to go after what you want,” his hand inches across the car seat, scooping Louis’ fingers out from where they’d been scrunched between his thighs. “But sometimes what you want isn’t the same as what you need. Sometimes you want the things that are truly bad for you, the things that will destroy your life.”

Louis takes that comment and sits with it for hours. He sits with it while Harry is downstairs in the living room with Dan, chatting about god knows what, until all hours of the morning. He sits with it when he can’t get to sleep, tossing and turning until the sheet starts to come away from the mattress and curl up around his sides.

He itches with the desire to go down there and demand Harry sleep in the same bed as him. Yet, his skin itches just as incessantly with the need to sneak out the back door in the hoodie that once belonged to Zayn and drive all the way over to see him. What was he going to say before they were interrupted? What did he want to tell Louis so badly?

In the earliest hours of the morning when the first rays of sunlight are pressing up against the shutters and Louis’ eyes have just drifted closed, the door creaks open. The sound of rustling stirs Louis from his dreams. His eyes flutter open. In the blue-black light of dawn, he sees a half-naked Harry hopping his way over to the bed, holding an obviously stubbed toe.

“Where were you?”

“Jesus,” Harry startles. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

“You didn’t come to bed,” Louis frowns, “of course I was awake.”

He doesn’t mention that he’d just fallen asleep or that what might have kept him awake longer than Harry’s absence is the words he left him with.

Harry smiles, tucking Louis’ untamed fringe behind his ear.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was helping Dan with something.”

“Helping him with what?” Louis crinkles his nose. “Why did it take all night?”

“I’ll show you later today.” Harry pulls the covers up over their chests and slides his pinky around Louis’. “Sleep now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come tell me how shit a writer I am...or the opposite, if it should take your fancy ;) Thanks so much for spending time on this. I put everything inside me into the things I write so if even one person makes it through to this point, I'll be grateful beyond belief.


	4. Chapter 4

 When Louis wakes properly, he’s uncomfortably groggy. He makes his way into the bathroom to wash up, rubbing at his eyes while kicking off his briefs.

He comes out half an hour later in black skinnies and a light blue button up, his nose dribbling like a tap. His throat feels scratchy in a way no hangover could ever arrange and his hearing seems to disappear at will.

“I’m sick,” Louis whines as he walks down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes again and sniffling into his shirt. “God dammit, I’m sick.”

“Lou?” Harry is smiling up at him from the first floor, looking way too chipper for someone who didn’t get to sleep until six in the morning. “Come down here. I want to show you something.”

Louis frowns but follows him all the way out to the front of the house, looking at Harry more than their surroundings. He looks so beautiful in the mornings; like an oil painting waiting to happen. The light always hits his sharp cheekbones just right, his slightly chipped teeth exposed in a smile the morning doesn’t deserve.

He’s wearing a long, light blue head scarf today which matches the colour of Louis’ top. He’s got black aviators hooked into the open collar of a grey button down and a pair of tight black skinnies with holes around the knees. He’s both cutting edge fashion and teen rebellion, glam rock and indie pop. Jay said the best books hold you not by the heart but by the fingertips.  _They’re page turners, Lou. You don’t read them, they read you._

Harry doesn’t hold gazes by the eyes. No, he’s a head turner. Louis never makes a conscious decision to look at him. It’s just a natural response to someone who’s generosity of spirit catches that much light.

“So,” Harry turns around, gesturing at the porch, “what do you think?”

Louis finally looks around, cataloguing the changes. He surveys the new porch swing, positioned exactly where the old sofa used to be. There’s a small bookshelf in the corner and a set of shiny pot plants all the way on the other side. There are tiny green plants sprouting from each of them with a watering can stood just beside.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, spinning around. Every rotation reveals more.

The porch has been painted bright maroon, which is exactly the colour Jay wanted. How did Harry know? Dan didn’t even know that.

Louis feels like he’s on one of those home renovation shows, having just shared his sob story with the world. For the first time, he understands not only what it’s like to have someone see into your tragedy but for them to feel the gravity of it the way you do.

“You did all this?” Louis grips his shirt. “You worked all night. Harry!”

“Dan helped me,” he laughs, cupping Louis’ cheeks. “You don’t have to look so shocked at my achievements.”

“No, it’s not that.” He shakes his head. “I just didn’t know anyone could love this porch as much as she did.”

“I don’t love it. But it means the world to you and I wanted to show you that this is not just a job to me. You’re my friend, Louis. I like you so much, more with every passing day, and I know those feelings will only grow.”

It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him. It’s not just acceptance of what he knows about Louis; it’s acceptance of the things he doesn’t. It’s been just a few days but Harry’s changed him, already.

“You didn’t have to prove anything,” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and buries his head in his chest. “But thank you. So much. It would have meant so much to my mum and it means so much to me.”

“We’re going to do your mum’s garden, too. I mean I might have said I’d, um... be back?”

“You will be,” Louis confirms. “We’re friends now.”

He doesn’t mention that none of his adult friends have ever been back to his family home. It doesn’t bear mentioning; not when Harry is a category all of his own.

“I meant what I said last night, though.” Harry frowns. “I think it’d be a mistake to listen to anything Zayn has to say.”

“I know you think that but I can’t promise anything. He’s a part of me, whether I like it or not.”

“Just be honest with yourself, okay?” Harry ducks his head so that their eyes are level. “Always be honest.”

“I will.” Louis is suitably solemn. “I promise.”

***

Louis is sitting in the corner of the garden, avoiding his relatives. He’s been coughing into a grotty handkerchief and downing whole bottles of water to help his scratchy throat. The sun is shining through the hedges around the courtyard, keeping his skin tacky, but the cobblestones are cool beneath his bare feet.

“Here.” Harry comes striding towards him, handing him a box full of tissues and a packet of soothers. “I went to the store.”

“God, you’re an angel. Don’t think I haven’t seen you cleaning up after everyone all day.” Louis takes the tissues and the soothers, pulling the chair out beside him. “You should sit down for a bit, keep your sick boyfriend company.”

Harry grins. A few curls have escaped his head scarf and his soot coloured shirt is completely unbuttoned and flapping in the breeze. It’s a lethal distraction.

“I’m sorry if I’m acting as if I belong here or something,” he rubs at the side of his face, taking a seat beside Louis.

“You do belong here.” Louis laughs. “Your family is lucky to have you.”

Harry’s face falls a little bit and his eyes skitter away.

“What?” Louis squeezes his leg. “Harry.”

“My family and I...we had a bit of a falling out after I quit law. I’m still close to my sister, Gemma, but my mum and I...” he shakes his head, grabbing Louis’ fingers. “We fight a lot. She thinks I’m wasting my potential.”

“What do you think?” Louis asks him, fascinated. They’ve talked about favourite shows and fond memories. They’ve talked in depth about their values and coming out stories but this, Harry’s fears and insecurities…they’ve remained untouchable until now.

“I think she should support me no matter what I do. I think that even if being an escort isn’t my dream career, it feels right at this stage in my life and she needs to accept that.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe it’s not as simple as supporting you no matter what you do.”

“How could it not be?” He laughs. “I’m her son.”

“Exactly.” Louis coughs into the crease of his elbow. “You’re her son. She wants what’s best for you, whether that’s what you want or not. I’m not saying that’s okay but I don’t think it’s unnatural, either. I think it’s only because she loves you so much. My mum and I might have been best friends but she never accepted my relationship with Zayn.”

“But Zayn is a total asswipe,” Harry says. “That’s completely understandable.”

Louis laughs and digs his fingers into Harry’s leg.

“Maybe so but he was what I wanted. Shouldn’t she just support me, no matter what?” He presses, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that what a good mother does?”

“She was concerned about your health and happiness,” Harry scoffs. “I don’t think being an escort affects mine.”

“But maybe she doesn’t know that. Have you ever explained to her what you really do?”

“I’ve tried.” Harry huffs. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Maybe it’s not what you’re saying, maybe it’s how you’re saying it. I know it sucks to have to be the bigger person but just because she’s your mum, doesn’t mean she knows what she’s doing. My mum always said being a parent was like trying to swim the ocean blind. You just had to hope you were swimming in the right direction.”

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming,” Harry sings, eliciting a fond smile from Louis. “I see your point.” He concedes. “I’ll try talking to her again, I suppose.”

“She’s just as stubborn as you, isn’t she?”

Harry laughs and curls an arm around his shoulders, dragging him into his side and pressing his nose into Louis’ hair.

“Yes, she is. C’mon, patient zero.” Louis glares convincingly, in his opinion, but Harry’s crooked grin begs to differ. “Let’s go find you some of that chilli I helped Dan make. It’ll help clear up your nose.”

They mosey on over to the main table where Louis’ favourite cousin, Alyssa, is telling a loud, story about Lottie running around naked as a child. Zayn’s laugh echoes down the table but his eyes follow Louis’ movements.

“Oh look who it is,” Alyssa turns to them with a hand under her chin, fluttering her eyelashes at them. “You two are sickening, you know. I’ve watched you, Harry. Even when you’re not with him, you’re staring at him like a lovelorn puppy.”

“I am not!” Harry cries, which is quickly followed by a round of snickers and snorts.

Louis’ face feels hot and he buries it in Harry’s chest, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s stomach.

“Don’t hide,” Harry kisses his forehead. “They’re making a fuss over nothing.”

“Jesus Lou,” Alyssa’s loud, brash voice silences the few conversations that had broken out amongst the family. “Is there anything wrong with this guy? Don’t tell me has a giant cock too.”

Louis smirks at Harry who smirks at him right back. They both know Louis’ only seen the outline of his cock...but that’s enough confirmation for him.

“Alyssa!” He laughs, eyeing Dan who, thankfully, seems to be busy with his phone. Louis leans down to whisper in her ear, “but yes he does.”

She screams with laughter.

Later that evening, Harry brings two cups of tea to bed with him. He sets them down on his bedside table and reaches over to brush Louis’ hair away from his face.

“How are you feeling?” He asks. “You don’t look half bad.”

“Well thanks.”  Louis grins. “I was going for drop dead gorgeous but ‘not half bad’ will do.”

Harry chuckles.

“C’mon, you know what I meant. And it’s not like you don’t know you’re well fit… and adorable, even when you’re trying not to be.”

Louis ducks his head, lips twitching. Harry’s brazen compliments will be the death of him.

“I’m feeling okay.” He says. “But I’ve got Lottie’s hens night tomorrow. A scratchy throat doesn’t mix well with alcohol.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Harry chuckles, tucking himself into bed. There’s a peaceful pause. “Zayn couldn’t keep his eyes off you today, either, by the way.”

Louis chooses not to draw attention to the ‘either’ and focuses on the bit that makes him falter.

“Really?” The truth is, Louis hadn’t noticed, or at least not until they’d approached the main table. The rest of the time, he’d been watching Harry. “I didn’t really notice.”

Harry rolls onto his side and rests his cheek against his hand, wide green eyes taking Louis in.

“You didn’t?”

“I was busy watching you.” Louis’ voice comes out soft and plaintive, like he’s asking for something.

Harry clears his throat and cups Louis’ cheek with his hand. It feels less playful than any of the times before. There’s electricity and rolling waves of affection beneath it.

“Night, Lou.”

Louis smiles into Harry’s wrist, resisting the urge to kiss him there.

“Night Haz.”

***

“Have fun.” Harry unbuttons the top button of Louis’ shirt, the one Louis had just buttoned. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“I won’t.”

Fizzy appears around the corner of the foyer. She’s too young to come to the club with them and has been stomping around the house all day, pretending not to be jealous.

“Well, are you going to kiss him goodbye, or not?” She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Menace, Louis mouths. The rest of the bridal party is waiting just behind him and Zayn is lingering by the door to the living room. He can’t exactly cry uncle.

“I’m not going away to war,” Louis complains weakly, knowing he’s never going to get out of this alive.

Harry laughs but it’s wooden. “Exactly. We’re not heathens. We’re not going to go to town in front of you.”

“Oh c’mon, Harry,” Alyssa cheers him on, “just kiss him already.”

Louis inclines his head just enough for Harry, who’s watching him with bated breath. C’mon then, it says, give me your best. Harry takes a shaky breath and Unsteady by X Ambassadors is suddenly pounding inside Louis’ head.

Harry slides a hand around his neck, pressing his fingertips to the spot behind his ear. His other arm snakes it’s way around his waist and pulls him tight up against his own chest. He pauses, eyes jumping to Louis’ face and away.

“What are you waiting for?” Louis says and inhales deeply, chasing his cologne.

Harry’s eyes shift from one side of his face to the other, looking for something Louis can’t decipher. After a moment of deep searching, he lowers Louis’ body into a dramatic dip, pressing his lips to Louis’ throat. Disappointed sighs fill the room and Harry starts pulling him up. A rush of panic inflates Louis’ lungs and he grabs Harry by the collar, halting him completely.

“I’m ready,” he pants. “I want it. I want you to kiss me.”

The whole room is silent, bar a few giggles. Only he and Harry know what those words mean. Only Harry knows that Louis is giving himself permission to want.  Harry stares at him, squeezing his neck intermittently, while breathing hot and heavy against his throat.

“Kiss me.” He tugs at the back of Harry’s hair, tilting his chin up. “Please.”

Harry makes a soft, consenting noise and lowers his mouth to Louis’, catching his sharp inhale. The kiss is electrifying. The hand on his back; scorching. Louis just tries not to melt as Harry presses their bodies closer together and slides his tongue deep, tangling it with Louis’. They sigh into each other’s mouths, smiling just enough to make it awkward. It’s still one of the best kisses Louis’ ever had.

When Harry breaks away, pulling Louis with him, cheers and wolf whistles surround them. Harry’s grin stretches his face wide but Louis’ eyes can’t help but flicker to the man watching them from the corner of the room. Zayn disappears into the living room, his face sharp with shadows

“Have fun,” Harry reiterates, pressing a smile into the top of Louis’ head. He says ‘fun’ like the fun has already been had. Louis can’t bring himself to disagree.

He links his arms around Harry’s neck.

“See you later,” he grins, Zayn well and truly forgotten. “Don’t get up to too much mischief while I’m gone.”

Harry smirks.

“No promises.”

Lottie comes up behind him and links their arms, smirking at Harry while dragging Louis away. They head out the door to the car, chit chatting about the wedding but Lottie’s replies quickly become monosyllabic. When Louis glances at her face, he finds her looking at the ground with pinched cheeks and pursed lips.

“Lots, are you okay?”

She looks up at him, face instantly shuttered.

“I’m fine.”

She notices his quirked eyebrow and presses in close.

“We’ll talk at the club.” She whispers. “When the others aren’t listening.”

When they get to the club, Lottie drags him straight to the bar, shouting at the others to find them a table. It’s hot and humid in the bar, Louis’ shirt and skinnies instantly becoming damp. He fans his face as they settle down onto two rickety bar stools, waiting for the busy bartender to head their way. A remix of Britney’s greatest hits is playing overhead and Louis just knows Alyssa will be wondering where he is, wanting to drag him out to the dance floor.

“I’m having doubts.” Lottie says, waving frantically at the bartender. She doesn’t look at Louis when she says it.

“Doubts?” His voice wavers. “What do you mean, doubts?”

She looks a vision in a black off the shoulder dress which clings to her hips and tapers off around her thighs. She’s wearing a pink sash that says ‘bride to be’ and sporting some larger silver hoop earrings. Why wouldn’t Zayn marry her? He thinks. She looks more like a beauty queen than a make-up artist.

“I mean,  _doubts_ ,” she waves her hand around in a vague circle and turns to meet his imploring look. “I mean, ‘I’m not sure if I want to get married tomorrow’ doubts.”

“What?” He grabs her wrist. “Lottie! When did this start?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, burying her head in her hands. “A couple of weeks ago? I love him, I do but there’s just something...not quite right about him at the moment.”

Louis squeezes her wrist.

“What do you mean ‘not quite right?’”

“I mean...” She glances around, checking for eavesdroppers, then lowers her voice. “I mean, he doesn’t seem that interested when we have sex. He’s distracted...or something.”

Louis tries not to cringe at the idea of his baby sister having sex and focuses on the part that scares him the most. What if Zayn is gay, not bi? What if Louis’ letting her make the biggest mistake of her life?

“Well maybe it’s just wedding jitters,” He says weakly. “You’re beautiful, Lots. How could he not be attracted to you?”

“Oh shh,” Lottie pushes his cheek the other way. “You have to say that.”

“Maybe. But I mean it too. Don’t you think you might just be a bit in your head about this? Couples go through ups and downs. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“You think?” She inclines her head, smirking in a way he doesn’t like. “I mean, you would know, I guess. You and Harry are the perfect couple.”

Louis doesn’t laugh or deny it this time. He just presses his lips into a budding smile and shouts out their order to the waiting bartender. Lottie doesn’t seem too perturbed after their chat, effectively reassured, but Louis can’t stop thinking about it. His only coping mechanism is to do a shot every time he considers telling Lottie to break off the engagement. It’s the only way to silence the competing voices in his head.

***

Two hours later, Louis is positively plastered. The lights of the club have begun to blur into a wash of rainbow stripes and though he’s pretty sure he’s jumping up and down to the music, he can no longer feel his feet hitting the floor.

“Lou, you’re so drunk.” Lottie is laughing in his face, eyes scrunched. “We’ve called Harry to pick you up.”

“Mm not drunk.” He slurs, swinging his arms around and managing to bash Alyssa straight in the shoulder. “Mm just tipsy.”

“Tipsy?” She snorts, “you’ve vomited twice!”

Louis waves her away, sticking his tongue out at Alyssa, who’s laughing just as hard. The music is pounding in his head and the acrid taste of vomit is lingering in the corners of his mouth. Louis stumbles away from them and straight into the arms of a tall, blonde stranger.

“Well hello there.” The man smirks and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. “You look like you could use someone to hold you up.”

Louis cranes his head up to look at Mr. Tall, blonde and handsome, his eyes growing more unfocused the longer he looks.

“Indeed.”

“Hey mate.” two hands grip Louis hips’ from behind, pulling him away from the stranger and into his own body. “How about you go and hit on someone who can actually give consent?”

The man grunts and curls his bottom lip. He turns and stalks away, leaving Louis alone with his saviour.

“Hey you,” His saviour spins him around and the world blurs once more. “You promised you wouldn’t get too drunk.”

“Harry!” He beams. “You’re here!”

“I’m here,” Harry laughs. “Here to take you home.”

Louis’ stomach bubbles.

“Okay,” he agrees, inching back towards the bathroom with a finger raised, “but I really think I must vomit first.”

Harry’s laughter trails after him as he turns and bolts for the bathroom. He only makes it halfway there before the warm liquid rises up his throat and catapults out of his mouth. A security guard reaches him at the same time as Harry, levelling him with an unimpressed look.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Louis salutes him.

“Indeed.”

Harry drags him from the club with an arm around his waist, whispering soothing words into his ear.

“We’re going to go home and get you cleaned up. You can have a shower and put on your favourite sweats and I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

“Okay,” Louis folds into him, inhaling the scent of his washing powder. “You take such good care of me.”

Harry just tightens his grip.

When they get in the back of an Uber, Louis curls up on the seat, laying his head in Harry’s lap. Harry smooths his sweaty fringe off his forehead, humming Bastille.

“I didn’t mean to get so drunk,” he sulks, playing with Harry’s inseam. “But Lottie told me she’s having doubts.”

“Oh?” Harry’s voice goes unnaturally high. “And that, um...that made you want to drink?”

“Kind of.” He gazes up at Harry’s hardened jaw. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Harry says. “You can’t help how you feel.”

The “but I wish you could” is unspoken.

When they arrive home, Louis is feeling slightly more aware. He’s able to make it up the stairs, without much help from Harry, but his head is pounding with the beginnings of a hangover.

Louis gingerly sits down on the bed and reaches over to grab his water bottle. He downs half of it while pointedly looking away from where Harry is stripping off his clothes. Once Harry has stripped down to a pair of tiny red briefs, he reaches into his bag and turns to Louis.

“You go shower,” he says and hands him his own joggers, plus another of his oversized hoodies. “I’ll get you some tea.”

Louis takes the clothes and wraps his arms around them.

“Bless you.”

When Louis emerges from the shower, muffled voices emanate from the other side of the bathroom door and they both sound increasingly ticked off. Louis scrambles into Harry’s sweats, jumping around a bit to get them up over his moist skin. He viciously brushes the taste of vomit from his teeth, rinsing until all that remains is mint, then gives his hair one quick ruffle. He pushes back into the room, hoping to diffuse whatever argument has broken out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this whole thing a bunch of times and I bet there's still errors. I apologise, I don't have a beta!


	5. Chapter 5

Zayn is standing there in an open collared shirt and leather pants, swaying on his feet while glaring at a half-naked Harry. His usually impeccably styled hair is wind ruffled and strewn about his forehead. It makes him look feeble, as if a strong wind could blow him over. His appearance in their room sobers Louis up quicker than both the shower and the time elapsed since his last drink.

“Zayn, what the hell? Aren’t you supposed to be on a yacht?”

“The bachelor party is over.” He staggers across the room, stopping just before their chests can touch. His breath is sour with alcohol and it hits Louis straight in the face. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“Lou.” Harry is glowering at one or both of them, Louis can’t tell. His voice brokers no argument. He wants Zayn gone.

But this isn’t a black and white situation. Not for Louis, anyway and he’s starting to realise it never has been. Zayn closed the door on him all those months ago but Louis never did the same. He left it open a crack, waiting for Zayn to sneak back through. It seemed impossible at the time that he could ever forgive the person who ransacked his life. Yet, a part of him always believed that Zayn had no choice, or at least that that’s how he saw it. If he wasn’t so desperately afraid, maybe he’d never have broken Louis’ heart.

“Please.” Zayn takes his hand and squeezes it. “I need to tell you the truth. You haven’t spoken to me properly all week and it’s been killing me, Lou. I need you to give me a chance.”

In this moment, with his voice wavering, Louis believes it has been killing him. There has to be more to their story than treachery and betrayal.

“Okay,” he agrees, watching Harry’s jaw harden while his mouth tightens like a screw. “But Harry stays.”

A tempestuous wave of emotion ripples across Harry’s face, parting his lips and filling his mint green eyes with calm.

“That’s ridiculous,” Zayn spits. “You don’t need a chaperone.”

“No,” Louis laughs, “but you do. You’re marrying my little sister tomorrow. What the hell could you possibly have to say to me?”

“That I’m ready.” He squeezes Louis’ hands and tugs them up towards his face, shaking them for emphasis. “I’m ready for you. I’ll come out to Lottie. I’ll tell her about us…about me. Just…promise me that you’ll end it with Henry and we can have the future we always dreamed of.”

Harry looks like he wants to backhand him but all he does is sigh, “you know full well that it’s Harry.”

He seems to be ignoring the way Zayn holds him and the way Louis lets himself be held, bottom lip quivering with the duality of temptation. He’s just as tempted to run as he is to touch. He wants to kiss until all that remains between them is forgiveness. He wants to run into the bathroom and lock the past out here where it can’t bring him any more hurt.

“That’s crazy.” He laughs, hysterical. “Jesus. Why now? Because I’m happy? Or because you can’t have me? You’re the one who sacrificed our future. Then you proposed to my little sister and didn’t even have the guts to tell her the truth about us.”

“You didn’t tell her either.” He slurs. “Why is that? It’s because you still love me, Louis Tomlinson. I know you do. We can make this work. We don’t have to dwell on the past.”

“Dwell on the past?” Louis tears his hands from Zayn’s grip, circling around to Harry’s side. “Are you listening to yourself? You don’t get to hit refresh. You don’t get a second chance. Not with me. You’re marrying Lottie.” The words are torn from his throat and the temptation to give in is expunged from his heart. The worlds crawl from one chamber of his heart to the next, piercing his lungs and accelerating all the up his throat. They explode out past his lips, spraying bloody debris and leaving only the acrid taste of reality in his mouth. “The only fresh start you get is with her. I can’t do this with you. You need to leave.”

“Louis.” He sniffles quietly as Louis backs away. “I fucked up, I know. I really hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Each word hits him harder than the last, sinking past his defences, but he knows it’s over. It has to be over.

“Go.” He’s shaking like a leaf when he points at the door. Harry wraps his arms around his waist, tucking his head into Louis’ shoulder. “If you really care about me, you won’t make this any harder.”

Zayn wipes his nose, shoulders heaving. He turns to leave, throwing Louis one last pleading look.

“You won’t tell her, will you?”

“No.” Louis whispers, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I won’t say a word.”

With that, he leaves. Louis collapses against Harry, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It’s okay.” Harry pulls him onto the bed and into his lap, whispering into his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What if—“

“You can’t ask what if now,” he cups Louis’ face, “don’t do that to yourself.”

His tears melt into Harry’s shoulder. Harry smooths down his damp hair, planting little kisses on the side of his face and singing off key until he finally earns himself a smile.

“You’re so brilliant.” Louis smooths his hands over Harry’s bare chest, blinking away the last of his tears. “This whole week has been so perfect with you here.”

“For me too,” Harry says, pink faced. “Accepting this job has been one of the best decisions I ever made.”

Louis smiles, mostly to himself, and runs his hands up Harry’s pecs to squeeze his shoulders. They’re so solid beneath his hands, solid chunks of wiry muscle which tense into his palms. Harry sighs a little bit and rolls his shoulders into Louis’ touch. Louis slowly brings his hands down past his forearms, to his wrists, thumbing along his pulse points. Then he runs his hands all the way back up to his neck. He feels, more than sees, Harry shudder.

“Want this.” Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist in a wanton display, rotating his hips. “Want you.”

Harry digs his fingers into his hips.

“Lou, you’ve still got alcohol in your system. I can’t. Not like this.”

“Do I seem drunk to you?” Louis leans in and latches his mouth onto the side of Harry’s neck, sucking, until the skin turns purple. “I’ve thought about doing that since the moment I saw you so don’t tell me it’s alcohol induced. This, right here, is the most clear-headed I’ve felt all week.”

And the scary thing is, he’s telling the truth. He’s never felt so sober, so clear on what he wants.

Harry finally pushes his hands up the back of Louis’ hoodie, burning a path up his spine.

“You’ve thought about it that long?” His voice is high and breathy, the vowel sounds coming out like off key song notes. Louis wouldn’t mind having the melody of his arousal tattooed onto his body. “Really?”

“That,” Louis slides his hand back down the centre of Harry’s chest, toward his pelvis, where he squeezes him through his briefs. “And this.”

“Fuck.” Harry grabs his wrist, squeezing just hard enough and just long enough to make Louis keen. His breathing is hot and heavy now but he’s holding onto Louis like he doesn’t know whether to pull him in or push him away. “Lou.”

“Harry, I’m not drunk.” He whispers in his ear, still toying with the hefty weight of his cock. “I just want to be taken apart. I know you could do it the best. You take me apart and put me back together, every day. Harry, pl—“

Louis doesn’t even get to finish his plea because Harry is gripping him hard by the cheeks and forcibly turning his head. His mouth crashes into Louis’ at high velocity but the impact is cushioned by soft lips and even softer tongues, tangling together in the place where his fresh toothpaste meets Harry’s berry smoothie.

“You taste like berry,” Louis licks his lips, going back in for more. “It’s so good.”

“Thank god you brushed your teeth,” Harry returns and they both laugh, teeth clacking together awkwardly until the last traces of humour fall away.

“You’re so hot,” Harry pants into the side of his face, tearing the zip down his own hoodie and frantically pushing it off Louis’ shoulders. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

Louis moans again and pulls Harry’s mouth back to his, rocking their hips together, just to feel the hard line of Harry’s cock pressing up against his own. There’s just two layers of fabric separating them and the blunt head of Harry’s cock presses against him just right. He moans, grinding down harder and slower, throwing his head back when Harry reaches out to touch him.

“You’re so hard.” Harry palms him, squeezing at the base until he elicits a noisy grunt. “Has it been a while?”

“Since Zayn.” He admits.

Harry bends to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth while Louis shudders down into his lap.

“Let’s rectify that, shall we?” He smirks, flipping them over so that Louis’ underneath him. “I’m going to make you come all over yourself before the night is over.”

Louis whimpers, fisting Harry’s hair as he ducks down lower and noses at the top of his briefs.

“Please. Just do it,” he begs but Harry just inhales the scent of his body wash and slides his lips up and down his V lines, nibbling at the corners.

“Your hips are so beautiful,” he sinks his teeth into Louis’ side, marking him up. “Your body is my fucking wonderland.”

“You’re so fucking sweet. I hate it.” Louis complains, fisting the sheets and bracketing Harry’s body with his legs.

Harry laughs and peels Louis’ pants down his legs, chucking them over his shoulder with a whispered, “we won’t be needing these tonight.” He eyes Louis greedily for a moment, running his hands up his calves and staring shamelessly at the place where smooth skin meets his puckered hole. Then he throws Louis’ legs over his shoulders and drags him straight down the bed.

“You’re so beautiful here,” he says and drags his thumb over Louis’ hole. He moans when it tightens beneath his touch, then licks a wet strip up the inside of his hand. He fists Louis’ throbbing cock and Louis keens and thrusts up into his warm hand, rocked by sensation. Harry keeps his eyes on Louis’ face when he leans in and closes his mouth around the tip, circling his tongue and dragging it back and forth across the slit.

“Jesus.” Louis bites down on the backs of his own knuckles. He has to spare a thought for his family who he doesn’t really want to hear him scream. “Your mouth is insane.”

Harry pulls off with a wet pop, licking his lips with a dirty grin, before dropping back down between Louis’ thighs. He parts Louis’ hole with his thumbs and thrusts his tongue inside, darting it in and out like a lizard, while Louis white knuckles the sheets.

“Shit, please.” He cries. “Just open me up already.”

Harry chuckles at that and presses a gentle kiss to his thigh.

“Lube? Condoms?”

Louis scrabbles for his bag, retrieving said items in record time. He dives back onto the bed, letting Harry manhandle him onto his stomach and place a pillow beneath his hips.

“Your bum is fantastic.” He sinks his teeth into one cheek, gripping the other and pushing it up to expose his hole. “Could worship you here forever.”

“Some have seen god while fucking me,” Louis throws a playful grin over his shoulder, arching his back. “Others have said their life flashes before their eyes when they come.”

Harry squeezes his arse, nuzzling into his cheek with a salacious smirk.

“I’ll bet they have,” he laughs, squirting lube onto his fingers.

“I want to feel you.” Louis turns his head to the side, face squished against the pillow. He can’t stop looking at Harry. He can’t help the fact that his words come out small. “Please, Harry.”

Harry cradles the cheek that’s not squished into the pillow, stroking it softly. Then he circles Louis’ rim with his pointer finger and gently pushes inside.

“You okay?” He checks, reaching up to squeeze Louis’ side. “Stop me at any time, okay Lou?”

He’s so lovely and considerate, even in sex. Louis bites his wrist to keep himself from admitting how hot that makes him.

“I’m fine.” he says instead, biting at the pillow. Harry’s finger is so long and perfect. It reaches new depths inside him. “Just give me more.”

Harry inserts another finger, scissoring them slowly. Little grunts fall from his lips when he witnesses the way Louis’ hole clings to his knuckles, hugging them tightly.

“Beautiful,” he sighs, pushing in with a third. There’s a quiet clicking emanating from Harry’s end of the bed and Louis pictures him pumping his purpling cock, the engorged tip sliding through his long, pale fingers. “Could watch this forever.”

Louis squirms when Harry presses against his prostate, holding there to create insistent pressure, instead of just jabbing at it viciously like Zayn used to do.

“Can I...” Louis huffs into the mattress, Harry pushing harder against his spot. “Want to get my mouth on you.”

Harry withdraws his fingers, leaving an affectionate kiss on Louis’ hole. He flips Louis over again and presses him down into the mattress, his hands finding the sides of his jaw. They kiss for what feels like hours, their hips shifting restlessly against each other, but their tongues content to slip and slide forever. It’s sexy and slow and all the things Louis never knew he wanted.

“Come up here.” He beckons, making grabby hands. “Let me at it.”

Harry chuckles and shuffles up until he can slide his knees in around Louis’ armpits, his hands clutching the headboard.

“You sure?” He asks, hips raised.

Louis grabs too handfuls of his arse and uses them to haul him in. Sliding his mouth over the tip of Harry’s cock, he moans and keeps going until the course hair at the base is tickling his chin, the thickest part of his cock is stretching his mouth wide.

“Jesus,” Harry shouts, bracing himself against the headboard. “I’m so deep.”

“Quiet,” Louis pops off to say, “I don’t need my sisters to hear me getting fucked.”

“Sorry,” Harry bends his whole body down to kiss him, tangling a hand in his hair and smiling against his lips. “You’re just so fucking hot.”

Louis swats at him, pinking up, despite his best efforts. Harry raises up again and slides into his mouth with an aborted moan. He smothers his sounds in one hand and uses the other to grip Louis’ hair, pulling him up to meet his pelvis. Louis swallows around his length, eliciting more choked sounds.

“Shit. Don’t want to come like this.”

Louis raises his eyebrows as if to say “then don’t”, but Harry just moans and thrusts against the velvety spot at the back of his throat. Louis keens and digs his fingers into the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to go faster. Harry’s dick slams into the back of his throat in response.

“Lou, I can’t hold out much longer. Want to fuck you.”

Louis pushes him away with a disappointed sigh. His lips are glossy with precome.

“Fuck me then.” He demands. “Stop wasting my time.”

Harry laughs at that and slithers down his body to fetch the lube and a condom. He squirts some lube onto his hand and gives himself a few sharp tugs, moaning brokenly. He rips the condom rapper open with his teeth, sliding it on faster than Louis could have hoped for.

“No more time wasting,” He pulls Louis’ legs over his shoulders. “Going to halt time with my dick.”

Louis scrunches up his face.

“That is the worst thing you have ever said. I shouldn’t even let you put it in me now that you’ve said that.”

“But?” Harry says hopefully.

“But I need to fucking come.”

Harry laughs deeply and presses forward, sighing into Louis’ mouth right as he thrusts inside.

“You’re so—-shit.” He says.

“Big,” Louis doesn’t even know what he’s responding to. His eyes are closed and he can feel Harry all the way in his stomach. “You’re so big.”

Harry’s hands find his waist, pressing in deep as he thrusts all the way in, jolting Louis up the bed.

“Yes,” Louis sighs. “Like that.”

Harry repeats the movement, swearing noisily when Louis’ muscles tighten all around him.

“Keep going. Please.”

Harry slams in again, and again, sending Louis further up the bed each time. When Louis complains that his thighs are tired, Harry wraps them around his waist, lowering himself down until he’s planking above Louis and giving him the best sex of his life.

“Your fucking arms,” he gasps, rotating his hips to get Harry deeper, breath stuttering out of him whenever the head of Harry’s dick nudges his prostate.

“You like them?” He tenses on purpose, hips slapping against Louis’. “I could fuck you up against the wall, if you want.”

“Another time,” Louis keens into a kiss, “right now, I just need you to make me come.”

Harry’s hand slides down his sweat soaked body to grip his cock, fisting it harshly.

“Yeah, like that,” Louis says.

Harry keeps moving his hips in deep figure eights, keeping his dick in constant contact with Louis’ prostate. On his tenth rotation, his thumb slides across the tip of Louis’ dick, pressing into his slit. Louis shoots come all the way up and over his own chest, finishing with a high-pitched whimper.

“Perfect,” Harry noses at his cheek, pressing kisses from the spot behind his ear all the way down to the base of his throat. “You were perfect, baby.”

Louis can’t deny he’s still whimpering a bit, exposed and over emotional. But he flexes his feet against Harry’s back and clenches around him as tightly as he can. Harry lets out a gloriously broken moan and shoves in deep, gyrating desperately. A moment later, the warmth of his come seeps through the condom and Louis lets a quiet sound of contentment escape.

They both wince when Harry pulls out, disposing of the condom in the bin beside them. It’s 3 am according to the alarm clock and Louis’ too sated to keep his eyes open.

“Thank you,” he sighs and plasters himself against the side of Harry’s chest, nuzzling his pec.

There’s a generous pause. It’s a moment that Louis spends just nuzzling Harry and trying not to worry about the thoughts he can’t hear. Then Harry pulls him closer and presses his lips to his hair.

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing more kisses to the side of his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, love.”

Louis snuggles in close and doesn’t dwell on what just happened. That’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, he just wants to enjoy the aftermath of great sex and the amazing feeling he gets snuggling into the chest of the man who gave it to him.

 

***

Steam curls up and into Louis’ face, rousing him from a deep slumber. It smells entirely bitter and entirely like the perfect cup of tea. He stretches, catlike, and opens his eyes. Sunlight drenches the entire room, bleaching his sensitive eyes but Louis just blinks the burn away, yawning into his bare bicep.

“You’re so lovely in the mornings,” Harry says. He’s sitting by Louis’ side, balancing a tray on his lap. It holds a steaming cup of tea and four slices of hot, buttery toast. There’s runny eggs, crispy bacon and sausage on the side. “Here, I made you some breakfast.”

His dimples are deeper than craters left by comets and his smile seemingly inches higher with every blink of Louis’ hungover eyes. He looks like a six foot, jacked up puppy, sitting there in only his tight red briefs, his long legs tucked up under his bum.

“Oh.” Louis pushes himself up against the headboard, rubbing at his forehead. There’s a headache pounding behind his temples that only gets worse when his memories of the night before come flooding back. They had sex last night. Shit shit shit shit shit, no.” You didn’t have to do that.”

Harry is still smiling at him too brightly. He slides his hands around Louis’ neck, pushing his thumbs into all the right spots and eliciting a reluctant groan from Louis’ lips. He pulls Louis in for a short kiss, rubbing their noses together and thumbing at his swollen bottom lip.

“I wanted to.” He murmurs. “Last night was—“

“Last night was crazy, huh?” Louis gently squeezes his shoulder. He grabs his tea and pulls it up towards his nose to use as a barrier between their faces. “I mean, it was a mistake. I was still a bit drunk—“

“You said—“

“And you were obviously lonely. And it was great, fantastic even, but it was a one-time thing, right?”

Because I can’t handle anything more, Louis thinks, because the former love of my life is getting married to my sister today and that’s more than I can handle right now.

Harry’s face falls noticeably. His eyes drift down and away from Louis’ and he pushes the tray onto Louis’ knees, dimples abandoning their post. He looks sunken and lost without them and Louis suddenly feels like the guy who took a dejected puppy back to the pound.

“I should go get ready.” Harry scrambles off the bed as if Louis has smallpox and heads straight for the bathroom. Louis is relieved. If he looked at Harry’s sad little face any longer, he was going to climb into his lap and kiss him until it stopped hurting. “I’m riding with Dan and your sisters.”

That brings a lump to Louis’ throat.

“Okay, um…” He palms the back of his neck, lips twisting. “I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah.” Harry’s face is blank. He closes the door on Louis and his voice sounds a million miles away. “I’ll see you there.”

***

Alyssa comes to pick him up while Harry’s in the shower and Louis can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. He was planning on clearing the air with Harry before he left but a part of him is relieved he doesn’t have to.

What would he have said anyway? That being fucked by Harry once left him more of a wreck than the thousands of time Zayn fucked him while they were together? That even though this whole week has been like a constant rush of endorphins, he still doesn’t know what to do with months and months of repressed feelings? That even if five days of pretending to be in love with Harry has triggered something inside of him, it can’t contend with the deep nostalgia for his past? No, he can’t say that. He can’t say any of it because that would involve letting go and giving himself over to the moment. That would mean being honest about what he really wants and he’s not ready to do that.

Louis grabs his tux from the closet and raps his knuckles on the door of the bathroom. He’s holding his breath as he brushes his fringe away with the back of his wrist

“Harry,” he calls and waits for some form of reply. There’s nothing but the sound of high-pressure water beating up against the shower wall.

“Harry, I’m leaving now,” he calls out, louder.

Total silence follows. It makes his eyes water traitorously. He hates being ignored by the one man whose attention he never had to work for. He fucked things up with sex and now Harry obviously wants nothing to do with him. That, or he wants more than Louis can give. Either way, what the two of them have shared the past few days is over.

“I’m sorry.” Louis calls out, swinging his bag over his shoulder and rapping his knuckles on the door one last time. “I’ll see you at the chapel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if the chapters seem odd, it's because I wrote this as a oneshot but I think it's harder for people to give feedback when it's a oneshot and I personally struggle with oneshots because there's never a convenient place to stop. Let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This ending is a bit different to my usual formula. I usually add a lot of unnecessary scenes because I like my ends all tied up and because I want to satisfy my readers. But I think perhaps it resonates more when it's more succinct. Hopefully it's still enough of the sweetness you've come to expect from me.

The song Lottie chose to walk down the aisle to begins and she’s hyperventilating outside the chapel doors. She looks every bit the angel she was as a child, albeit shouldering the fears of a grown woman.

 She’s wearing Jay’s wedding dress and it compliments her perfectly. The short floral sleeves and flowing lacy skirts highlight both the delicacy of her features and the brightness of her skin. Part of her hair is pulled back in a dutch braid that goes all the way around her heard, the rest left straight and glossy. There’s a thin layer of sparkling pink gloss and a thick layer of equally sparkly eyeshadow that matches her radiant skin. Louis couldn’t be any prouder, if he tried.

 “You look so beautiful,” he squeezes her hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “Mum would have been so proud. Listen, I know you can do this. I know that you’re ready.”

 She grabs his other hand and faces him, sniffling quietly.

 “I just wish she was here. I wish she could tell me that I’m doing the right thing.”

 “No one can tell you that.” He wipes away a single tear and hopes it’s one of the last Zayn inspires. “But we’re here for a reason. You chose Zayn and he chose you, right? That means everything.”

 The more he reassures her, the more jittery he becomes. This is it. This is where he parts ways with Zayn forever. The gravity of that partially obscures his genuine happiness for her. Standing inside that chapel is the first man Louis truly fell in love with.

 “Right,” she nods, beaming convincingly. “And he’s gorgeous, right? I’m really lucky.”

 “Of course.” Louis chokes out. “He’s perfect.”

 “Okay,” she pulls the veil back down over her eyes, exhaling deeply before grabbing Louis’ hand. “I’m ready. Let’s go get me married.”

 “Ho hey” by The Lumineers begins for the second time inside. People gathered inside are no doubt curious about what kind of bridezilla crisis is happening outside these doors but neither sibling pays it any mind. They send each other one last reassuring grin before Louis taps on the doors. They open right on cue.

 The whole family is looking at Lottie with tears in their eyes as they start their way down the aisle. Louis finds himself tearing up too. Dan is sitting with his arms around the younger twins, the older girls gathered around him. Fizzy is wiping her nose with her non-existent sleeve, glancing furtively at Dan to ensure he doesn’t catch her having an actual emotion. There’s a space left on the other side of Dan that’s both far too big for his mum and far too small for the spirit she carried with her. Lottie notices it too, squeezing his hand three times, as if to say  _I love you_.

 Louis realises then that this moment has been a lifetime in the making. Though it hurts to see Zayn standing up there, eyes only for Lottie, it feels as though this was always meant to be. She was always meant to be his. He was always meant to be hers. Lottie was always supposed to walk down this slightly dusty chapel, wearing the dress Jay would have freely given to her, her face lit up by the little white lanterns their family strung up for her.

 The reassurance of this realisation sends his eyes out over the audience, searching for the last piece to the puzzle. He finds Harry in an instant, sitting tall beside Louis’ grandfather, as if he was always meant to be here too. Louis blows him a kiss. Harry’s eyes flicker with something frantic and unbridled that almost stops Louis right in his tracks.

 But they’ve reached the altar and it’s time to make the sacrifice he came here to make; his happiness for hers. He places Lottie’s hand in Zayn’s and their eyes meet in the middle. For a moment, electricity crackles between them. Then Zayn’s eyes shift back to Lottie and there it is again, that smile that’s as wide as it is bright. Happiness in its purist form; the same kind that’s reflected on Lottie’s face.

 Louis moves to his rightful place by Lottie’s side. He tucks his hands beside his back and wipes a single tear from his cheek. A tear of happiness, his family will assume. A tear of heartbreak, Zayn might know. When his eyes flicker over to audience, he finds Harry watching him with a sharp jaw and piercing eyes.

 The priest does his piece, Lottie and Zayn giggling inappropriately throughout. Which is then followed by the vows. Zayn promises to love her kindly; to love her faithfully; and to love her eternally, while Lottie speaks of the promise she made to Jay to be as happy as she can for as long as she can. She says that Zayn makes her happier than she ever dared to be before she met him and that she’s going to spend the rest of her life making him feel the same. There are more misty eyes in the room than dry ones, yet the piano that plays in the background seems melancholy.

 Rings are exchanged with shaking hands and breathless smiles. The next part is rudimentary and outdated. Louis has often wondered why they don’t scrap it from the ceremony altogether. The priest asks if anyone sees any reason why these two can’t be married. Despite the ridiculousness of it, Louis bites at the corners of his fingernails, holding his breath just a little.

 “Speak now or forever hold your peace,” the priest bellows, giving both sides of the chapel a measured look.

 Louis bows his head, not making eye contact with anyone. The room is so silent and so captive, that Louis hears it the moment someone’s shoes squeak and their chair scrapes along the floor.

 “Lottie, I need to talk to you.”

 It’s Harry, standing in the middle of the aisle with eyes on fire. It’s a fire that green and Louis’ heart is dangling over it, about to go up in smoke. Harry looks like a man possessed, his hands shaking as he brings them up to his hair.

 “Now?” She squeaks, gesturing at the wobbly faced priest who mumbles something unsavoury. “I think it might be a bad time, Harry.”

 Nervous chuckles echo throughout the chapel, mirroring the way Louis feels. He begins chewing a savage line into his bottom lip, turning desperate eyes on Zayn. Zayn looks entirely too calm, approaching Harry with faux curiosity.

 “Is there a problem?” He enquires, lips upturned. His eyes dart to Louis’ for only a fraction of a second but it’s just long enough for Harry to catch it.

 His lip curls and he advances on Zayn.

 “Yes, actually and I think Lottie deserves to know about it.”

 Louis walks over to join the party, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and shaking him until his teeth start to rattle.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 “Saving your sister from making the biggest mistake of her life.” He silences Louis with an arctic look, then turns to shoot the same look at Dan. “I’m sorry, but you and Louis have it all wrong.”

 He turns back to Louis. The whole weight of their time spent together appears to soften the harsh angles in his face.

 “You told me people interfere because they want what’s best for you, regardless of what you want and that’s what I’m doing for you, and for Lottie, because I care about you both enough to fight for you, even when you won’t fight for yourself.”

 “It’s not as simple as that.” Louis says. “Sometimes someone else being happy is more important than you being right.”

 “And sometimes,” Harry’s voice has a mocking edge, “people only keep secrets because they don’t want to admit the truth, in this case, that they’re still in love someone who completely broke their heart.”

 Louis’ breath gusts out of him and he stumbles back a step, trying to recover from that one-two punch.

 “Louis, what the hell is he talking about?” Lottie lifts up her skirts to get to them faster. She runs down the aisle, her face darkening rapidly. “What secret have you been keeping?”

 “Don’t listen to him, babe.” Zayn reaches out and cups her chin, forcing him to look at her. “He’s obviously jealous.”

 “Jealous of what?” She shrieks, ripping her face from his grasp. “Why on earth would Louis’ boyfriend be jealous? He’s not in love with me. He’s not in love with you.” She rants, waving her hands around. “So if he’s not in love with one of us, then what the hell is it?”

 She’s breathing heavy and fast, her eyes darting between them all three of them. She’s looking at them as though each of them holds a blade, capable of severing an artery.

 “Zayn is the man who broke Louis’ heart.” Harry is first to speak. “Six months ago, they were together but Zayn refused to come out. He accused him of sexual harassment instead and used it as leverage to force Louis to give up his shares in the company. Zayn knew who you were, Lottie, and he still didn’t tell you the truth. And Louis...Louis still has feelings for him.”

 “How could you?” Louis turns on him, the man he invited into his home and considered inviting into his heart. He’s shaking all over as he pushes Harry away from him. “How could you do this to me?”

 “How could  _he_?” Lottie laughs, viciously stabbing him in the chest. “How could you? Was this some kind of joke to you both?” Her eyes snap between him and Zayn. “Were you just laughing at me this whole time?”

 “Lottie, no.” He reaches for her, fingertips barely closing around her wrist before she rips it away, choking on a mournful cry. “I decided not to tell you because you were so happy, that’s all. I was trying to protect that. It wasn’t because I was planning to steal him away.”

 She snorts and shakes her head, ripping Jay’s veil away and throwing it across the aisle. Louis thinks he might remember the image of it lying there, crumpled, for years to come.

“Why should I believe you?” She gestures wildly at Harry. “Even your own boyfriend thinks you’re still in love with my fiancé.”

 “He’s not my boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes. “He’s just some guy I hired because I didn’t want to come here alone. I didn’t want to face my ex by myself. That doesn’t mean I’m still in love with him.”

 “Just some guy, huh.” Harry shakes his head. His chin is wobbling and now that Louis can see him up close, he notices just how puffy his eyes look. “Just some guy you let fuck you the night before the wedding then disposed of when the urge wore off.”

 Scandalised gasps sound all down the aisle and Lottie has had enough. She points a shaking finger at Zayn, hot tears sliding down her face. They ease down over her cheeks, stripping away bright highlighter and leaving only pale grief in their wake.

 “You’re the reason Louis left.” She stabs the air, “You blackmailed my brother and then tricked me into falling in love with you. You’re not even straight, are you?”

 Louis wants to go back to six months ago and tell her everything he knows about Zayn Malik. He wants to ensure she never has to face a moment as cruel as this one.

 “Listen to me. I’m bi, okay?” Zayn takes her hands in his. “Now you know. But I’m not here for Louis, baby. I’m here for you. Yes, I knew he was your brother but I only found out  _after_  I’d already fallen for you. I love you Lottie and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

 He does a good job of appearing earnest. He’s always had a  voice so smooth and silky, he could convince a murder victim of his regret.

 “I just don’t believe anything you have to say right now.” She runs her hand across her waterline, catching devastation. “I can’t do this. Not today.”

 She lifts her skirts and runs for the doors, bursting through them with a loud, breathless sob. Zayn sends Harry a cutting look then sprints after her, calling her name.

 Louis’ shoulders droop. He buries his head in his hands, control quickly slipping away from him. There’s still a small part of him that’s disappointed that Zayn went after her and not him. It makes him feel like the worst brother in the world. Plus, what does it say about him that he’s so cut up over someone who would have seen him destroyed?

 “You see?” Harry’s hand kneads his shoulder. “He only ever offered to tell Lottie the truth because he was afraid you had moved on, not because he saw any future with you. He doesn’t want you, Louis. He never did.”

 Louis knocks Harry’s hand away from him and stares him down, fists clenched. There are hot tears brewing in his eyes but it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing inside, gathering in momentum the longer he stands here, humiliated and bereft.

 “You were a guest here.” His voice quakes but his finger is rock solid when he stabs it into Harry’s chest. His rage is at the tipping point, about to turn lethal. “You had no right. You don’t know me. You don’t care about me. If you did, you never would have done this. You never would have broken my heart the way you just did. How can you stand there and say that you did that for me? Why don’t you just admit you’re just like him? I’m just a good fuck and you wanted one more good lay.”

 _Lethal_. Louis’ accusation is like a brutal boomerang. It slices through the air towards Harry at warp speed, then turns at the last second and is propelled back at him, twice as hard. Because what hurts the most is not that Lottie knows what he kept from her. It’s not that Zayn went after her. It’s not even that his family knows he lied to them. It’s that Harry betrayed him, plain and simple. It’s that someone who was on his side from the very beginning switched sides when he wasn’t looking.

 “One day, you’re going to realise the truth. That I honestly did this for you, not to you.” Harry says. His entire face is ashen, the light in his eyes completely snuffed out. “I was the only one in this room with the courage to go after what I want.”

 “So you admit it,” Louis laughs, eyes burning. Stop talking, says a voice that sounds suspiciously like his mum, but Louis is on a kamikaze plane, about to go down. “This was all about you?”

 “No,” Harry shakes his head, laughing softly. Defeat laces his voice and his eyes burn with unshed tears. “You’re the only one who doesn’t see it. Everything I’ve done since I got here has been about you. And it’s not because you paid me,” the word ‘paid’ is punched out of him, “it’s because I actually gave a damn about you.”

 He turns and storms out of the chapel, not stopping to give Louis one of his squinty eyed smiles or quietly intense looks. It really shouldn’t be this hard but Louis feels the loss like a bullet hole through his chest. He watches Harry until he disappears through the doors, the third person to turn their back on him today. Immediately after, he turns and collapses into Dan’s waiting arms.

***

The sun has just risen when Harry departs the hotel for his car. The sky is burnt orange with thin grey trails of cloud clearing away to the west. It’s going to be a beautiful day, but it’s a beautiful day without Louis and that leaves him feeling hollow. His heart feels like it’s a million miles away in a sprawling country house with gardens he dreamed of tending to for years to come.

 He sighs and chucks his bag in the back of the hire car, slamming the door hard enough that it rattles. It’s over, he tells himself, he’s not in love with you, but it feels like someone shoved a hot poker straight through his chest.

He’s just about to slide into the car and put this all behind him when someone small and soft flies straight inside his side. He sees a flash of electric blue and it’s the same colour that the sky turns when white lightning momentarily illuminates an indigo storm. Louis’ eyes are devastating to the system and they remain a constant reminder of his vortex-like personality. Harry is sucked in repeatedly, then spat out, as if it were mere coincidence, he happened to find himself there in the first place.

 “Harry! Wait!” The voice is all wrong. The hair is both too silky and too long. Lottie’s eyes are a shade lighter and her body is slightly softer. Not Louis, coming to suck him in again. Lottie, coming to do...what? He asks himself. What could they possibly have to say each other?

 Harry grabs her by the shoulders, steadying them both.

 “Lottie? What are you doing here?”

 She looks a little worse for wear this morning, dressed in full sweats and carrying the brunt of her loss in her burnt-out expression. Her hair has been pulled back into a bun with thick strands escaping out the sides.

 “Stopping you from leaving,” she says, bending over to catch her breath. “You’re not getting away that easy. Not if I have any say in it.”

 Harry furrows his eyebrows, completely bewildered.

 “Shouldn’t you be with Zayn?”

 “Should I?” Lottie quirks an unimpressed eyebrow which makes her look scarily like Louis. “I thought you torpedoed my wedding to prevent exactly that?”

 “I torpedoed it for both of you.” He shakes his head, heart aching. Fat lot of good that did. Louis felt betrayed, not protected. The fact that he did the right thing for both of them is bittersweet, at most. “And I shouldn’t have. Louis’ right, it wasn’t my place, regardless of how I feel about him…or you.”

 Lottie drums her fingers against her forearm, watching him closely.

 “And how do you feel about him?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, since you brought it up.”

 “What does it matter?” He huffs. “He’s not interested in me. He could barely look at me yesterday.”

 “Really? Because after you left yesterday, he went to pieces. Then he went after you. Took Dan’s keys and followed your uber all the way here only to chicken out at the last moment. Dan told me all about it when I got home, much as I refused to listen. Then he told me what I’m about to tell you now. He said that Louis might be hung up on Zayn, that he has been for a while, but he’s not in love with him. Not anymore. Not since he met you.”

 “He was here?” Harry‘s heart swells momentarily before sinking deep into the crevices of the pavement. “But he left, Lottie. Those aren’t the actions of a man in love.”

 “No,” She agrees, eyes shining, “they’re the actions of an  _idiot_  in love and my brother is exactly that.”

 “It’s only been a week,” Harry runs a trembling hand through his hair. “Not even. This is crazy. I think I went insane yesterday, just watching Louis look at him like that. It was as if he couldn’t bear to say goodbye. He wasn’t just giving you to Zayn, he was giving Zayn to you.”

Lottie’s face cracks, splintering right down the middle.

 “God, I’m so sorry, Lottie. I ruined your wedding.” He presses his palms against his face, trying to erase the last twenty-four hours from his brain. “What’s wrong with me?”

 “Nothing, Harry. Absolutely nothing. You saved me.” She grabs his hands, squeezing hard. “My stupid brother was so caught up in his own head, he couldn’t see the right thing to do. But you did. I owe you, Harry. That’s why I’m here. I can’t let you make the biggest mistake of your life, the same way you wouldn’t let me make the biggest mistake of mine. You’re perfect for each other, I’ve seen it. And don’t you dare try to tell me that was just acting.”

 “Not for me,” he grins weakly, “but after we had sex, he completely shut me down. I’ve never felt so rejected.”

 “He’s an idiot.” She rolls her eyes, chuckling weakly. “You want to know why mum interfered so much with his dating life? It’s because he couldn’t pick them. He chose the worst people to date and they _always_  proved how horrible they were. The reason you two are so right for each other is because he  _didn’t_ pick you.”

 “You still want him to be happy?” Harry’s completely floored. “You’re not angry at him for what he did?”

 “Of course, I am. I’m furious!” She clenches her hair in her fist. “I don’t know if I can trust him like I did before or forget the way he failed me but Zayn is long gone. No matter how I felt about him, no matter what he said, I was never going to marry someone who did what he did to my brother. Louis’ still my big brother and he still deserves to be happy, even if I’m not ready to forgive him completely.”

 Her shoulders drop when she exhales and a tentative smile ripples across her face. Harry gets the feeling she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about it all until she said it out loud.

 “He’s lucky to have you,” He kisses her forehead and squeezes her shoulder. He’d be lucky to have her as a sister-in-law. “He’s lucky to have someone who fights for him the way you do.”

 “Right back at you.” She says. “Now promise me you’ll think about what I said. Promise me you won’t leave until you’ve talked to him.”

 “I can’t promise I’ll talk to him,” he shakes his head, “but I promise to think about it.”

 She nods, acquiescing.

 “That’s all I ask.”

 ***

 Louis is sitting in the courtyard, picking petals off of flowers when Lottie wanders in, a cautious smile on her face. The sun is high in the sky but Louis picked the shadows tosit in, curling in on himself, like only someone who completely fucked things up would.

 “He loves me, he loves me not.” She calls out, walking towards him. “You used to love to play that game when you were a kid.”

 Louis’ smile is wry. The cloying smell of the flowers is starting to make him feel dizzy and his eyes are still puffy from last night.

 “It’s not as much fun as it was then.”

 Lottie sits down beside him, cross legged, and pulls the flower from his fingers. She rips a violet petal off and they both watch it drift down around their toes.

 “He loves me not,” she says, letting the pause grow pregnant.

 Her eyes tell stories of the night before, their weariness underlined by a new kind of strength.

 “You and Zayn...” Louis can barely look at her, eyes drifting past her to zero in on the hedges.

 “We’re over.” She says. “Maybe he loved me. Maybe he loved you.” She sighs. “All I know is, he didn’t deserve either of us. I’m better off alone.”

 “It’s that easy for you?” Louis sulks, pushing his thumb through the dirt.

 “Yes. Because I know I deserve the world and that eventually, I’ll get it. Do you?”

Louis stays stubbornly silent, pushing the grainy dirt around the cobblestone. He traces its path with his eyes, wondering at the way all the ants in his path scatter. What must his finger look like to them? Is it as devastating to their little universe as Zayn was to his?

 Lottie grabs his hand, stilling it completely. He looks up and finds that her eyes are hard around the edges, the lights that usually reflect off her smile diminished by persistent shadow. She looks like a broken woman. It kills to know that he’s the one who did it to her.

 “I’m sorry I’m not strong like you,” He says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I was the one who got in the way of you being happy. I should have been honest with you. From the beginning.”

 “Yes, my god, yes. But maybe you couldn’t be,” she pauses, “because you weren’t being honest with yourself.”

 “I’m not in love with him.” He presses his thumb into his thigh, leaving an imprint of his nail. “You need to know I’m not in love with him.”

 “I do know.” She smiles, dangling a suspiciously bright smile before him. “How could you be in love with Zayn when you’re falling heard over heels in love with someone else?”

 And there it is; the bomb she was waiting to drop.

 “That’s ridiculous.” He rolls his eyes. Semi intimate limo conversations and an impressive number of thigh squeezes do not make a love story. Although five days spent watching each other navigate complicated emotional minefields, apparently, do. Or at least that’s what his heart would have him believe. “I barely know the guy.”

“If you keep denying this to yourself, you’re going to make the same mistake you made with me. You’re going to hurt him, Lou.” Her face is drawn, now that Louis is looking, and there’s deep purple shadows forming underneath. “The way you hurt me.”

 “Lottie, I’m so sorry.” He swallows. “I’ll regret what happened yesterday for the rest of my life.”

 “I know,” she grabs his hand, kneading his palm. “And I don’t want you to punish yourself for it. I want you to stop making the same mistakes. You have nothing to be insecure about. You have to nothing to fear. Harry wants you. More than that, he wants a future with you, and that’s all that matters in this meaningless world; the people who see meaning in you.”

 Louis’ heart thumps unevenly. He pounces on her suddenly, throwing his arms around her and rolling them backwards with a delirious grin.

 Maybe she’s right. Maybe hipster pirates who lick the icing off a cupcake, tongue first, have a way with lazy, insecure scoundrels like him. Maybe the two of them wrote their own love language before they even knew what love might mean for them. Their language was eyes slotting together over a steaming cup of tea or making snide comments in each other’s ears as they listened to his family’s hetero-normative conversations. Their language was finding ways to touch each other in the softest of places; the places where thick sinew meets wafer thin. They both touched the softest parts of each other and when they grazed up against something firm and impenetrable; they made those parts soft too. Harry opened him up as if Louis had been open the whole time, without realising, as if all that was left to do when he came along was turn him inside out. And turn him inside out, he did.

 “Lou-eeee,” Lottie squeals, cackling. “Louis, what the hell?!”

 “I love you,” he says in her ear.

 He leaves her lying on the ground as he rocks back onto his haunches and grabs that damn violet flower. He tears away another petal.

 “He loves me,” he murmurs, crushing it in his fist.

 “Finally,” Lottie sighs. “I talked to him this morning. I was hoping I could at least talk some sense into one of you,” she gives him a sharp look, “so I asked him to give you a second chance.”

 “I—thank you,” He breathes, wide eyed. “I can’t believe you would do that for me. After everything I put you through—"

 “I would do anything for you,” Lottie stabs a finger at him. “That’s what makes me the better sibling.”

 “Alright, alright.” He grins. “I’m a bastard, you’re an angel. We get it. Can we move on please?”

 “I don’t know if he’ll come,” she says. “He’s pretty convinced you don’t feel the same.”

 Louis rubs his eyes, breathing heavy.

 “I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Lottie nods, then squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s just pray Harry is as forgiving as I am.”

***

 Louis waits until the sun is pressing heavily on the horizon and streaks of purple fill the sky. He waits until all his relatives have double kissed him goodbye, muttering about the money they could have saved if they’d known things would turn out this way. He waits until Lottie goes back to her own flat, whispering that they’ll talk more when she’s ready. He waits until the girls have fled to their rooms and Dan has patted him on the shoulder, confessing that he can’t stay awake any longer

But when the clock is showing two a.m. and there’s not a text nor a call in sight, he retires to the guest room, booking his flight home for the very next day. Once that’s done, he rips off his clothes and curls up into a ball on Harry’s side of the bed. It still smells of expensive cologne and sweet shampoo. It still smells like the way Harry gave it to him, so passionate and so tender, as if it meant the world to him that Louis trusted him enough to be laid bare.

Louis’ eyes slip closed right before the door creaks open and someone with heavy footsteps slips inside.

“You should really lock the front door at night,” he says. “That’s ‘how not to get murdered 101.’”

 The light is blinding when the switch is flicked and Louis blinks back at him until Harry’s outline becomes clear. He’s standing there in a flannel shirt, opened to his naval, with a pair of dark, tightly fitted jeans that ride up towards his stomach. His black necklaces are swaying about his pecs and he’s got a million rings to match. He looks as fit as the day they met and Louis wants him so much, his heart aches.

 “You came back.”

 Louis scrambles to sit up, wishing belatedly that he’d left his shirt on. He feels vulnerable like this. His hair is fluffy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, just trying to calm himself, and his whole body is visibly shaking. Yet, Harry looks determinedly at his face, ignoring his exposed body.

 “A little birdy reminded me that I shouldn’t be so sure I know what you’re thinking,” Harry inclines his head to one side. “I think maybe she was right.”

 “I’m thinking I should never have let you get away,” Louis tells him, mouth quivering. “I’m thinking only an idiot would chase after someone who never wanted them in the first place.”

 Harry crawls onto the bed and sits just far enough away that Louis can’t reach him.

 “I have to know, once and for all,” he lets out a laboured breath. “Do you love him?”

 “No.” Louis stretches out to reach his hand, swinging it back and forth. “I really, really don’t.”

 “Then why didn’t you come up to talk to me at the hotel? Lottie said you followed me there.”

 “I didn’t know what you wanted after everything.” Louis rasps, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t know if you wanted me.”

 Harry laughs at that, crawling close enough to cradle Louis’ face in his hands, tracing the path of crimson that blooms under his touch.

 “I wanted you from the very beginning. I never stopped. But after we had sex, it was like you were done. It seemed like you got what you came for and you were done. I felt used, Louis. It hurt me more than you can imagine.”

 “I don’t have to imagine,” Louis reaches out to stroke his cheek, sorry for the pain he caused, sorry that he didn’t realise sooner. “I felt it when you turned your back on me in that chapel. Watching you walk away from me then was more painful than watching Zayn choose Lottie. I was scared you hated me.”

 “I could never. I was just hurt. I wanted you to want me back more than anything. I never planned to fall for you but it happened without my say so.”

 “Harry, I do want you.” Louis presses into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands all over. “I’m falling more in love with you every day.”

 Harry breaks out into the most glorious smile and hauls Louis into his lap, taking his mouth in a bruising kiss.

 “I’m falling in love with you too,” He sighs, sliding his fingers through Louis’ hair and laughing into his cheek. “Your hair is really something.”

Louis buffets his shoulder and their matching grins speak volumes. It feels like it did before, only better. There’s no more angst and no more secrets. Just the two of them and this wildfire they started together.

 “I want to stay here, with you.” Harry brushes their mouths together, kissing him after every wish, as if to seal them all. “And your family.” Their lips brush. “No more running away, Lou.” He deepens the kiss, pressing into him with his whole body. “No more heartbreak.”

 “No more running away,” he agrees, a crinkly eyed smile escaping. “Just you and me and no more stupid Cali.”

 Harry chuckles, pulling him close enough that he can run his hands down Louis’ back, just teasing the top of his briefs.

 “No more stupid Cali.”

 Fizzy pops her head in the door, barely raising her eyebrows at the image of the two of them wrapped around each other.

 “Have you two idiots figured out you’re in love with each other yet?” She starts texting, not even looking them in the eye. “I thought I was going to have to keep making you kiss.”

 “Diabolical,” Louis breathes, widening his eyes at Harry. “Maybe we were just pawns in her plan this whole time!”

 “Well, I didn’t plan on you having sex and ruining Lottie’s wedding...but it worked out just fine in the end.”

 Harry pulls Louis to him, shaking with laughter.

 “I changed my mind,” he says. “Let’s go back to Cali.”

Louis cackles, kissing every spot he can reach, ignoring Fizzy’s tortured groans. He couldn’t have hoped for a better ending to this chapter of his life. He couldn’t have hoped for a better beginning to the next one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy? Let me know. I loved writing it and I hope it brought a smile to at least one person's face. Hopefully you'll hear from me again soon but in the meantime, I hope you all have a wonderful day/night wherever you are and continue to treat not only other people, but yourself, with kindness x

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr. I’m lovehoperomance. You can even share my post about this fic ;)  
> Love you all. Thanks for your support x


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